What's Yours Is Mine
by CenizaAzul
Summary: Add Angel, subtract a soul (second power), and multiply by evildoers who want a dangerous spellbook to divide the earth into pieces. The variable of the disastrous equation? Spike, the Slayer's reluctant ally. COMPLETE
1. Prologue

An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
  
  
  
  
Prologue:  
  
San Tomás, Mexico  
  
Though the sun had set hours ago, heat still rolled over the barren desert landscape, refusing to subside. The evidence of its presence lurked everywhere, a telltale sheen of sweat gleaming both on the darkened natives and red-faced tourists. However, in one tiny bar outside an equally tiny Mexican town, one vacationing couple sat in the corner, oblivious to the heat. The owner watched them as he wiped his greasy face with a dirty handkerchief. He thought it very curious that these "gringos" weren't perspiring at all. It was hot as hell.the cheap souvenir margarita glasses said so.  
  
The man at the corner table noticed this scrutiny, but shrugged it off, arrogantly gesturing for another Corona. Scurrying over quickly, the native avoided contact with the visitor's cold blue eyes. Doing his job as quickly as possible, he accepted the wad of American cash thrust at him, shivering as the man's hand grazed his own. The lazy smile and vigilant eyes of his customer contradicted themselves, confirming that this was not someone to be trusted. Hastily, he retreated back to the safety of the bar.  
  
"I think he's frightened, Spike," the woman said in a singsong tone, "That wasn't very nice of you."  
  
"Dru, pet," her irritated paramour answered, watching the bartender resume his duties as far away from their table as he could get. "I wasn't doing it on purpose. This pisshole of a town bores me, that's all."  
  
Twirling a lock of dark brown hair around her long scarlet fingernails, Drusilla looked pensively at Spike. They had been in Brazil for only a few months before she had wearied of the scenery, people, and local demons to be seen. Though it was evident he would rather have stayed, her childe had agreed to leave, taking her on a bloody trip around South America. A rapt smile twisted her lips with the memories. There was nothing her black knight would not do for her. Perhaps, she should return the favor somehow.  
  
"Spike?" she started, but he silenced her with a glance, alert to something she didn't see. Already lost in her own thoughts, she absentmindedly massaged one of his hands, giving it the semblance of warmth.  
  
Her lover was paying attention to a couple of other vampires who had entered the bar, and taken the table nearby. These were obviously from the area, for they were greeted warmly by all inside. As they were served a tequila too bitter even for Spike's tastes (he had tried it earlier), the three kept wary eyes on each other, well aware of each other's presence and what the human masks concealed.  
  
The younger of the two appreciatively moved his eyes over Drusilla's satin- clad body. She didn't notice, pale eyes far away. Her vampiric companion did see though, recklessly shifting into game face and allowing his demon's power to wash over the other in warning. Realizing that a far older and dangerous vampire sat at the other table, the local vamps submissively turned to their own conversation.  
  
'Leaving their betters alone.' Spike thought with satisfaction, reverting to his human appearance before any of the drunk humans noticed.  
  
He was about to ask Dru what she had been saying when a fragment of the discussion caught his ear. These vampires were either very naïve, very stupid, or both. Not only were they ignoring the fact that he was capable of hearing their soft words, they assumed he didn't know Spanish. He snickered in the back of his throat, before tuning in. It was the first thing to interest him here, besides Drusilla, of course. Though rusty in his language skills, he managed to follow along.  
  
"Un libro de encantos fuertes? Como te oíste este?" the younger vampire said, his swarthy face lighting with excitement.  
  
'A powerful spellbook?' Spike translated silently. 'How did you hear this?'  
  
"Yo hablé con alguien importante, y es un secreto. El dijo que el Libro Prohibido va a aparecer en un ciudad en California," the other answered.  
  
'I talked with someone important, and it's a secret. He said that the Forbidden Book was going to appear in a California city.' Upon interpreting, their eavesdropper scoffed 'That really narrows it down! And what an original title..if I ever got my fangs on the poof that thought that up, he'd find some better definition of pain!'  
  
"Yo puedo imaginar ahora!" the other grinned, displaying yellowed teeth. "Encantos de dolor, y muchos personas a comer. Regresaremos a caos."  
  
'I can imagine now. Spells of pain and many people to eat. We will return to chaos,' the master vampire smirked. 'I'd love to see that too.but in what city? Come on now, keep singing.'  
  
"Pero, Manuel, sabes que no podemos ir al EUA." Older Vamp reprimanded "No tenemos tiempo. Adémas, la Slayer viva allá."  
  
'But, Manuel, you know we can't go to the USA. We don't have time. Besides, the Slayer lives there.' Spike had heard enough to pique his interest and give him what he needed to know. Slayer. Pain. Sounded like a lark!  
  
Standing fluidly, he walked over to their table, companionably slapping the Hispanic vampires on the back. "Gracías por la informacíon, amigos." Spike grinned with a passable accent.  
  
They gaped at him, helplessly watching as he grabbed the hand of his vampiress and walked calmly out the door.  
  
********** Outside in the dirt lot, Dru willingly got into the car, glancing questioningly at Spike. He didn't notice, preoccupied with trying to get the tricky engine started. Cursing its predecessors, he finally managed to revive the motor and they pulled out. Still wanting his attention, she placed her hand on his arm and pinched hard. He didn't even move.  
  
"Spike?" she asked in a little-girl voice, the pout audible.  
  
"Eh?" he replied, looking ahead at the road.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"Back to Sunnyhell!" he grinned, all traces of his surly mood gone. "Learned some things from our friends back there in the bar."  
  
"We should have invited them for tea, Spike." Drusilla reproached. "Where are your manners tonight?"  
  
"Sorry, luv, no time," the bleached vampire said, glancing at her half- shadowed face with a apologetic twitch of his lips. When Drusilla made no response, he continued, "Word is, a book of dangerous spells is gonna surface on the Hellmouth. Don't know much else, but it'll be fun, ducks, I promise. Pain, suffering, general chaos. What's not to like?"  
  
She clapped her hands delightedly. "It's been so long, Spike! The oceans were crying for blood, and the stars stopped dancing. It made me so sad! Let's go right now, please?"  
  
Entranced by the renewed sparkle in her eyes, Spike skillfully pulled the car over at such a speed it was fortunate nobody else was on the dirt road.  
  
"Mm, not yet," he grinned wickedly. "Had a few last minute plans."  
  
Drusilla smiled coyly as his possessive blue eyes moved over her. With well-practiced timing, they grabbed at each other. When he vamped out in the middle of a fierce kiss, she ran her tongue over his fangs, cutting it and producing blood. As the life fluid was traded between their mouths, they shuddered, each clasping the other closer. With a feral growl, Spike rolled over into the backseat, carrying Dru with him.  
  
**********  
  
Not an hour later, the car was again headed north. Gazing at Drusilla, who was asleep against the window, Spike leaned forward towards the windshield. This wasn't to help him see through the blacked-out window, but out of necessity. The multiple fingernail scratches down his back were too sore to bear pressure.  
  
Though the wounds had him wincing, he loved Dru with all his undead heart- everything he did was for her. Besides, it wasn't as if he hadn't given as good as he got-he could recall and relish her cries in seconds. Dru thrived on violence after all, and had taught him to do the same. He could picture her easily, drenched in blood from diabolical head to slippered foot, smiling for him alone. It was those moments that defined his feelings. Pain was temporary, and unlife was good.  
  
The black car continued to roar down the primitive road, only swerving slightly as Spike dug in his duster for cigarettes. The desert scenery, beautiful only to those who know it best, whipped by as he carelessly flicked the smoldering ash out the window. The DeSoto was ominous in its solitude, saying proudly 'something wicked this way comes' with every violent shift of the transmission.  
  
********************  
  
Hope it's turning out OK so far, this fic is not as depressing as that other one I wrote! Dish out the reviews, for I bathe in praise and use the constructive criticism to scrub those hard to reach places! Thanks for reading! 


	2. Many Happy Returns

Chapter One: Many Happy Returns  
  
An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
Two weeks later: Sunnydale, California  
  
It had been almost four years since the whole sending-the-lover-to- hell fiasco. Four incredibly awful years of depression, training and groping from countless blind dates. After Angel had been returned to the Earth, Buffy had stopped seeing anyone. Not that it had done any good. Once recovered, he had immediately moved out of Sunnydale, sending a clear message of rejection. He had been a big help coming back to help stop the Mayor's Ascension, but kept his distance from his ex-lover the entire time.  
  
Nonetheless, she had effectively minimized her social life to her closest friends and the calendar in her room that counted every day since she lost him. After all, Angel was her first, strongest, and last love. How could she allow herself to forget? Well, to be fair, she also counted the days because nothing remotely exciting had happened since they had broken up. At all.  
  
It was as if the fact that giving your lover a one-way ticket to hell, having him come back, and not speaking two words the whole time caused the powers-that-be think she needed a vacation. No apocalypse, no incredibly dangerous demons! Not even a new store opening at the mall! Just the same old boring routine of patrol.  
  
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" the Slayer grumbled to herself as she stomped through a cemetery, glaring at the sky. "It's alright to send me something to do, you know! Maybe a quest! Or something!!!"  
  
She redirected her rant, halting and turning to the ground. "And you? Let's not even go there! Not saying I like dying or anything, but does Hell enjoy seeing me bored out of my mind!!????"  
  
Evidently only a little bit. Unbeknownst to the pissed Slayer, a vampire had come into the area. Normally, he would have avoided her at all costs, in fear of his unlife, but now he sensed his chance. She had obviously lost her mind, staring and talking to the ground below. It would be the easiest thing in the world to go kill her and get a free meal. He boldly approached with no caution whatsoever.  
  
"I've got one word for you," the blonde stated flatly to her enemy, keen ears picking up his heavy footsteps. "Mistake."  
  
Before the young vamp could react, she had turned and pressed a stake against his unbeating heart. Resigned to his error, he looked into her glinting hazel eyes and stiffened for the death blow. When her weapon withdrew, his vampiric face twisted into confusion, an expression which likely was not very attractive on either of his visages.  
  
"But," the Slayer quietly continued, having decided to toy with her attacker. "I think it's your lucky night. Sort of. I'll give you a fighting chance."  
  
"Huh?" her hapless opponent asked.  
  
"Oh, shut up!" she barked. "You get first hit. Then we battle. May the best man.err..fighter win."  
  
Needing little encouragement, the vamp rushed her, his head covered with a mass of dirty black hair. She stood still, letting him kick her in the stomach. Though she was thrown against a gravestone with the force of the blow, she was up a second later, laughing.  
  
"You really are pathetic, you know that?" Buffy remarked. "Sacred duty aside, I see no reason to be out here. My poor dead grandma could beat you up!"  
  
He gaped at her, half-embarrassed and half-afraid. "Umm.don't kill me?"  
  
The petite Slayer just laughed sarcastically. "Brilliant comeback. You know what my line is now?"  
  
The only answer was a cloud of dust as she threw the stake, hitting his heart with deadly aim.  
  
She sighed once all traces of the foe were gone. "You see that." she said out loud to nobody in particular. "I got rid of him. I'm sure the world's gonna sleep better and everything! Somebody give me a damn parade!"  
  
She stopped talking, alerted by the sound of a low chuckle nearby. Whipping around with a crossbow from her duffel bag, she aimed it at the tree from where the sound originated. The weapon dropped to the ground almost as fast as her mouth when her amused audience stepped out from behind his viewpoint, hands up in surrender.  
  
"A..Angel?" Buffy stammered, trying to calm the flutters in her stomach. "Um.I knew trees didn't laugh!"  
  
He grinned back, noting the rising flush on her face. "So, I take it you missed me?"  
  
'A new speaking record!' she thought silently, with no small amount of bitterness.  
  
"I'm so glad you're back!" she replied, belying her words with a tiny, sad smile. She doubted he was here for anything but business.  
  
Trying to lighten the mood, Angel gestured at their surroundings, awkwardly punning. "I gathered that Sunnydale has been rather dead lately. Not dead enough though, huh?"  
  
"Omigod." she groaned, reddening even more. "I was saying all that stuff out loud? I'm really sorry."  
  
"Nah, don't be," the brunette vampire reassured her, inching closer. "I was the only one able to hear you.unless you count that poor vamp you dusted."  
  
"Yeah." Buffy replied, remembering to retrieve her stake from amid the pile of dust.  
  
As she walked over, Angel followed, complimenting "And I kinda missed Ranting Buffy.but mostly I missed just Buffy."  
  
She giggled suddenly, with a sly smile in his direction. "Someone is theoretically blushing."  
  
"No arguments here." Angel replied, shuffling in an awkward manner.  
  
They made the move to embrace, not realizing what had happened until they fit once more into each other's arms. Relaxing against his chest, Buffy closed her eyes as his hand rubbed her back, retracing an endless circle. It had been far too long. She was torn between melting in a puddle to the ground or never moving for the rest of her life.  
  
Suddenly, Angel stopped, looking down at her from his height. On the defensive, she looked up, getting a crick in the neck, but ignoring it.  
  
"What?" she asked defensively, glaring at his dancing eyes.  
  
"Nothing.never mind!" he laughed, before enduring a jab in the side. "I just thought you had fallen asleep or something."  
  
Her chuckles rang out through the graveyard, soon joined by his. Though they weren't sure why it was so funny, they laughed until tears ran out of their eyes. Collapsing to the earth, Angel wiped the bloody tearstains away and gathered her close.  
  
"So." Buffy started quietly after a few moments of silence, attempting to find out why he had come back. "How's LA been?"  
  
"Los Angeles.is." he said slowly, trying to think of the right words.  
  
"Swinging?" she joked. "I can see you now, clubbing all night with some drunk girls."  
  
"They don't make them in LA like they do here." Angel flatly interrupted, his dark brown eyes doing all the talking for him.  
  
Looking at him seriously for a second, the Slayer leaned in slowly towards his face, giving him every chance to back away. But he didn't, and when their lips finally met, the world could have shattered into fiery pieces. They didn't care.  
  
The toll of three years apart caused them to deepen their kiss immediately, leaving her almost breathless in its' ferocity. When they finally separated, he was dazedly able to remember a slight problem with this otherwise perfect relationship.  
  
"Buffy?" he whispered, voice hoarse with need. "My soul."  
  
His warning was in vain, cut off by a trail of kisses she left on his chest as she unbuttoned the shirt. Driven near madness by longing and love, he forgot his constraints. She moaned, with some amount of triumph, as he yanked her shorts down, tearing out part of the zipper in his rush. Already leaning against a tree, Buffy pulled Angel down to the ground, straddling him easily. They looked at each other with passionate, smoky eyes. This action seemed hasty, but somehow so right.  
  
A mere twenty minutes later, their solitude was interrupted. Unluckily for her, the Slayer's night seemed to be teeming with hidden audiences. Hidden to the preoccupied couple, another set of eyes observed their lovemaking, with no small amount of disgust.  
  
"Thanks for the show, Slayer!" a voice abruptly complained from behind a nearby crypt.  
  
Startled at the interruption, Buffy yanked her shorts back up, looking in panic for her shirt. However, the top was beyond both reach and repair. Shakily, she and Angel got to their feet, warily looking for the eavesdropper.  
  
Spike stepped out once they were fully aware of another presence. In the pale moonlight, his silvery hair glinted nearly as much as his eyes, laughing silently at their discomfort. He had just stepped out to find a late night snack, but the excursion was turning out to be much more interesting.  
  
"You know, luv?" he sniggered, cocking his head to the side. "I do believe you've saved some helpless soul. I've lost my bloody appetite!"  
  
Quickly recognizing the accent, Angel leaped at the blond vampire, ready to defend himself and the Slayer. However, his grandchilde had been expecting such an attack, knocking the older vamp down with one blow. Oddly disoriented, Angel was easily out of the fight with another cruel kick, falling face-down in the shadows.  
  
Unaware of who he had just battled, Spike turned his attention to the Slayer, his punch landing square on her jaw, cutting off her shocked gasp. Hazel eyes glinting in angry challenge, she whirled to face him, beginning a furious trade of blows. However, five bruising minutes later, the blonde Slayer had forgotten her state of undress. This fact was quickly brought to her attention by Spike's infuriating smirk.  
  
As he took in the dark blue bra with the raise of an suggestive brow, she turned a embarrassed shade of red. The distraction was enough for him to lean forward, seizing her face with just enough force to hold her still. She thrashed but he tightened his grip painfully and placed a sadistic kiss on her unyielding lips. With a yelp, she finally managed to break away from the mockery of an embrace when he slashed down with his fangs. Blood welled up from the two shallow cuts.  
  
Staring at him in horror as he casually licked her blood off from around his mouth, Buffy was unprepared for any attack. Mercilessly, he delivered a kick to her stomach, striking her gasping to the ground. Chastising herself for being an easy target, she focused on breathing evenly.  
  
Spike looked down at her heaving form, hands in the pockets of his duster. Defiantly, the Slayer scowled at him, near driven mad with the silent laughter emanating from those damn cold lips of his. He just grinned at her irritation and idly waited for his opponent to rise, the poster boy for chivalry gone wrong.  
  
"Surrender, Dorothy," he quipped with a disdainful glance at Angel, "And your little dog too."  
  
As she regained her breath, Buffy's face was still flushed with shame. However, as he watched, a livid expression stole into her flawless features. With a sudden burst of energy, she lunged to her feet, hitting and hurling her adversary some distance away. As it happened, right into the area where Angel lay.  
  
To Buffy's horror, he was not yet awake. Easily rolling back onto his feet, Spike sauntered over to her lover's motionless form.  
  
"So, Slayer," the vampire taunted, dragging the 'mystery man' face-down into the light. "Who's the lay of the day?"  
  
The small Slayer's indignant right hook was sidestepped as he turned over her unconscious conquest. Upon recognition of Angel, he snapped his head up to glare at her. Turning to her violently, he grabbed her neck and threw her up against a mausoleum. Before he had toyed with her, bored and indifferent. But now their games were over, the fury and small hint of alarm in his hard eyes unsettling her. This was not like her other dealings with William the Bloody. She writhed uncomfortably trying to get free, but his steady arm prevented any escape.  
  
"You daft bint!" he growled with soft menace, inwardly dreading Angelus' return. "Did you finish him?"  
  
"What?" she faltered, thoroughly confused. Finish as in kill? Wouldn't one of Spike's ultimate goals be to rid the world of his 'poofy' grandsire?  
  
He glared at her, obviously at a loss for a appropriate insult. Sighing with a patronizing air, he dragged her over to Angel and arrogantly pointed. She still looked unsure of his meaning, struggling for breath his relentless grasp did not grant. Gazing at her speculatively for a moment, he tossed her towards her lover, resigned to be crude in order to get his point across.  
  
"Did he cum?" he bluntly scoffed, plainly of the opinion she wouldn't know one way or the other.  
  
His only answer was the frantic sound of the Slayer running off, barefoot. Since she would never risk feeding Spike's ego with retreat, that must be a yes. He gave Angel a troubled prod with his boot.  
  
"That's right, Slayer," Spike finished with a snarl, viciously embedding the heel of her abandoned shoe into the soft earth. "Run away."  
  
********** Racing as fast as she could down the street, Buffy covered the mile between the graveyard and her new apartment in what seemed to her like record time. Favoring her left foot, she limped through the entrance hall of the complex. Those inside the lobby stared at her in shock. Hair disheveled and clutching the tatters of her tank top to her chest, the small blonde headed toward the stairs, oblivious to the stir she was causing.  
  
The receptionist, a woman in her forties with immaculate makeup was professionally startled but concerned. Obviously something awful had happened, so why was the young woman here instead of a hospital? With distaste, she moved her gaze to the bloodstains on the floor from the tenant's feet.  
  
"Ma'am?" she said anyway. Buffy wearily turned with a bland look on her face. "Do you need me to call the police? Or an ambulance?"  
  
Letting the question sink in for a moment, Buffy rubbed her bruising cheekbone, and mutely shook her head 'no'. Dumbfounded, the employee watched the girl practically drag herself upstairs to her third-floor apartment.  
  
  
  
Again, reviews are wonderful.you know the drill, I bathe in praise and scrub away with that constructive criticism. Those hard to reach places. Sigh. 


	3. Fool Me Twice

An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
Chapter Two: Fool Me Twice  
  
An half hour later, Willow strode through the doors of the apartment building, worriedly picking up the whispers which were obviously about her friend. They were supposed to be going out to the movies tonight, and since Buffy didn't drive yet, her friend was acting as chauffeur. This was one of Buffy's chief dislikes in life. When she had turned 20, the Slayer had finally moved away from her mother, but was still dependent on other people for transportation, much to her embarrassment.  
  
Picking up her pace, the redheaded witch managed to keep a calm face on until in the stairway. Out of sight, she vaulted up the steps three at a time, noting the scrubbed but visible bloodstains with concern. Once outside the door, Willow considered knocking, but in the interest of time, used her spare key to enter the small apartment. Besides, goddess knew what state her friend was in!  
  
Stepping inside Buffy's apartment was always like a trip back to childhood. In a determined attempt to avoid the morbidity of the rest of her life, the Slayer had painted her walls in bright, pastel colors. Even the furniture fit this ideal, the tables with softly rounded edges, walls laden with picture frames and whimsical paintings, and the lamps carefully chosen to provide as much light as possible. Of course, it was not a perfect haven, for weapons were hidden in many of the innocent-looking furniture pieces.  
  
"With good reason." Willow muttered wryly as she searched for her injured friend.  
  
In the small dwelling, it took a matter of seconds to find Buffy in the bathroom, staring absently into her mirror. Taking in the sight of her bloodied lips, bruises and various cuts, the witch couldn't help gasping out loud. The Slayer's glassy, lost eyes focused on Willow's reflection, and tears welled up as she struggled to say something.  
  
"Shh," the redhead murmured, running a inch of water in the tub to clean off Buffy's feet and helping her stand in it. "I'll be right back, Buffy."  
  
When Willow returned with a first aid kit and pajamas, the petite girl had not moved, transfixed by the reddish tint of the water around her swollen ankles. Silent tears ran down her face, aiding her friend in cleaning the wounds. Not a word was spoken until the witch produced the pajamas.  
  
"Angel." Buffy read listlessly, wanting to scrape off every trace of the glittery writing off.  
  
She had bought that sleepwear a while ago, as a whimsical joke. But they weren't funny anymore. She had probably doomed the world with her selfishness. She had been cursing herself a million times over since she got home, but it wasn't enough yet. It would never be enough for screwing everybody over--again. So much for learning from mistakes.  
  
"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me," she hoarsely whispered.  
  
"What?" Willow asked softly.  
  
"Just go get another pair!" Buffy shouted, unstoppable sobs shaking her small frame.  
  
Aware that something more than a beating had occurred tonight, the witch reminded herself not to make judgements on Buffy's actions. Returning with a royal blue spaghetti strap and matching drawstring pants, she managed to get the Slayer dressed and into her room.  
  
"What happened, Buffy?" Willow queried, drawing a bright patchwork quilt over her friend's shivering body.  
  
"Mom made this," was Buffy's only response, running her fingers over the neat stitches.  
  
"Yeah, Joyce is really good at sewing," Willow agreed, before being struck by a horrible thought. "Nothing.please tell me nothing happened to her?"  
  
Finally realizing that the Wiccan was worried out of her mind, the Slayer came out of her sorrowful trance. "No, no..not Mom. Angel."  
  
"Want to tell me more or should I keep guessing?" her friend lightly pried.  
  
"He came back." Buffy choked, "An..and..so did Spike. Spike knocked Angel out before I knew for sure, but I think."  
  
"He lost his soul again." Willow finished when the Slayer's resolve ran out.  
  
Buffy nodded, gesturing at her wounds. "And then Spike did all this to me."  
  
"He ripped your clothes off too?" the witch said dubiously.  
  
"No." the blonde whispered with downcast eyes. "Angel. And me.so now you know."  
  
"Oh, goddess." Willow exclaimed. She had not understood what had happened with Angel's soul.  
  
"It's all my fault!" the Slayer moaned, rocking back and forth. "I'm such a whore. "  
  
Getting over her shock at Buffy's disclosure, Willow sat down on the bed and embraced her best friend.  
  
"No, you aren't!" she vehemently argued. "You never get over your first love, even when you've moved on."  
  
"Never." Buffy hoarsely agreed, too tired to continue the subject. Wiping the last of the tears off her face, she smiled weakly at the redheaded witch. "Have fun at the movie, Wills."  
  
"I'll be right at home." Willow contradicted. "Call me if you need anything at all. I mean it."  
  
"K," the Slayer mumbled, snuggling deeper into her nest of sheets.  
  
By the time Willow softly locked the door behind herself, Buffy was already asleep, curled into the fetal position and deathly still.  
  
********** On the other side of town, Spike and Drusilla had procured a elegant mansion rather easily. Drusilla convinced the owner to let them in, swaying her body in a shy yet sensual manner. The lecherous old fool completely ignored Spike's presence, but that was all part of the plan. In any case, her paramour had grown indifferent to this common occurrence. Damned if he would be jealous of a human anyway.  
  
Once inside, the pair hit the elderly man from both sides, draining him dry in a matter of minutes. His blood was like a dry, well-aged wine, though not as filling as the blood of the younger. Spike dumped the body outside on the secluded lot. The place was so big anyway, the old eccentric would decompose before anyone found him. He reentered the house to find Drusilla gone, likely exploring the grounds. She'd probably find some dusty old painting and sit in front of it for the next hour or two, convinced the subject was telling her secrets. Well, that was just fine with Spike. She was a big girl, and he needed time alone.  
  
Suddenly he found himself feeling unusually hot. Stripping everything off from the waist up, he still boiled, so he went in search of a bathroom and a cold bath. Ten minutes later he was immersed in the water and found some relief from the heat. His unanticipated illness puzzled him. After all, he hadn't been sick since he was a human, unless you counted bloodlust as a disease. As the water grew tepid from the fever of his body, he found his thoughts drifting to the Slayer, an image of her winded on the ground foremost in his mind.  
  
It was funny how a man in search of a challenge either never finds it, or finds that he respects that obstacle because it so resembles himself. He appreciated her prowess as a fellow fighter, but that wasn't exactly what he was thinking about. He was acknowledging that had Buffy's eyes shown the least hint of belief she would die, he would have gone for the kill. Fate disgusted him because it contradicted his rebellious way of life. It was so much more fun flinging yourself against destiny and winning.  
  
"Long time, no see, William," a voice interrupted with amusement. "I must admit I'm curious. However did you get into that tub with crippled legs?"  
  
"Angelus." Spike greeted coolly, his eyes quick to notice Drusilla just behind her sire in the doorway.  
  
Her face was luminous even staring at the back of Angelus' ugly head. She had probably slipped away to go find the other love of her unlife. It looked like he had some dusty paintings to go and destroy for 'telling' her that her sire was back to bad. Little ripped shreds of canvas would do nicely.  
  
Masking his apprehension, Spike rose languidly from the tub without bothering to cover himself. It was nothing they had not seen before.  
  
"Ah, so you've healed," the older male murmured, his eyes sliding blatantly over his childe's body. Spike pretended not to notice the stare or the discomfort it caused him.  
  
Dru pouted but neither of her men paid attention, eyes locked in a silent contest of dominance. Feeling prudence was the wiser course of action, Spike lowered his icy gaze first. Let the poof think he was in charge for awhile. His fall would come. Angelus smiled in triumph and led the vampiress from the room.  
  
"Let's go pick a room, darling!" Dru cooed, steering him down the hall.  
  
"One far enough away so we won't disturb Spike," his grandsire chuckled, voice fading as the couple left.  
  
He would not have been so pleased with himself if he had seen the twisted loathing on Spike's face. But as always, the younger vamp was patient. He could ruin Angelus if he had to go against his nature to do it. He had done so in the past by allying with the Slayer, and that idiot obviously didn't believe he would do it again. Drying off swiftly, he entered a nearby bedroom, conveniently separated from wherever the hell Dru and Angelus had set up, and crawled under the sheets still naked.  
  
********** Sleep came to the vampire, but was not easy, for he dreamed fitfully. Screaming faces from the past sped in front of him, threatening to inflict on him the pain he had given them. They laughed at him as he had laughed at them, because they now knew his weakness. 'What weakness?' he tried to ask them, but his lips were as if sewn shut. The more he tried to talk, the more of them gathered to jab their knives into his body. The stabs gave only a tickling sensation in his skin but hurt like hell in some deeper place they shouldn't be able to reach. 'What is wrong with me?' he screamed finally, and found his mouth able to open.  
  
"Nothing is wrong with you." Drusilla replied matter-of-factly, holding her cold palm to his sweaty brow. Still in a crimson dressing robe, she glanced at him questioningly.  
  
"I was dreaming." Spike tried to gather his thoughts, staring at the moonlight through the curtains he had forgotten to shut. "Wasn't I?"  
  
"Of course you were, ducks," his ex-lover reassured him, running her hand through his tousled platinum hair. She gasped suddenly, fingers still kneading his scalp as she saw a vision from far away. Her eyes closed in concentration.  
  
"Dru?" he gently prompted. It didn't usually take much to get her to divulge what she was seeing.  
  
"You've changed," the vampiress intoned in a different voice, one somewhat hoarser and deeper. "I planned it this way."  
  
"Planned what, Dru?" he queried, unnerved by the fact that her eyes had turned a blind white.  
  
"You know you are different now, William," the being responded, ignoring his question. "What he has lost, you have gained."  
  
It took Spike a moment to puzzle that one through, but Dru's grip on his scalp seemed to coax the memory out. The images rushed up in torrents. Last night.  
  
"Angel's soul? Why me?" the vampire asked angrily, now speaking not to Drusilla but the entity within.  
  
The Gypsy-inside-Drusilla chuckled. "All by default, I assure you. The second time he lost his soul, it was to leap to the nearest being who lacked. You just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."  
  
"Look, I don't need a bloody soul, so you can just un-give it!" Spike snapped at the blind witch.  
  
"I'm afraid it's there to stay," she said apologetically. "But if it's any consolation, it won't bother you any more than it did last night."  
  
"It had better not," the blond threatened. "Or I will dig you out of whatever forsaken grave you claim and."  
  
"Now, now, William," the old woman admonished. "No need to try and intimidate me. This soul isn't yours anyway, so I do not plan for it to trouble you."  
  
"You don't?" he retorted nastily. "Last I checked you had a thing against vampires."  
  
She just looked at him smugly. Without warning, she plunged her hand into his chest, but it didn't hurt at all. It was as if Drusilla had become a ghost. He swiped at her hand but his arm passed straight through. The Gypsy woman smiled at him patronizingly, then removed her hand as painlessly as it had gone in.  
  
"It's settled in deep enough so that it will be at rest," she informed him. "Good luck."  
  
"Wait just a bloody minute!" he hissed. "Take it out! I recall telling you I didn't want this!"  
  
"What do you want, love?" Drusilla asked him, smiling sweetly.  
  
She obviously didn't remember a word she, or it, had just told him. The expectant look in her eyes told him what she wanted the answer to be. He hadn't the heart to reject her outright, but now that she was back to sleeping with Angelus, she was like used goods. He settled for a polite kiss across her knuckles and laid her hand back on her lap. Her face relaxed somewhat but her head was still cocked to one side, a birdlike curiosity in her expression.  
  
"It's nothing, luv," Spike sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. Nothing she would understand, that is. "I just got fooled, s'all."  
  
  
  
There's another chapter I'll put up soon, just found it laying around my desk and after a tweak or two I'll ship it off. Hope the Angel-checking- Spike-out scene wasn't too scary..I'm not done with that little bit yet, but I promise it doesn't end that way! Please! B/S has too much potential for that.  
  
So reviews= happy me! And I don't know about you, but when I'm happy life is good. No, really. :-D CenizaAzul 


	4. To The Point

Chapter Three: To the Point  
  
An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
  
  
After the revelation given him by the Gypsy, Spike had made his excuses and slipped out of the mansion. A private place for him to think was becoming more and more hard to find. He had told Angelus and Dru he was famished, and they didn't contest that. Likely they needed the whole place available to set up some sexual labyrinth. The thought was not particularly agreeable.  
  
"Poor Spike," Dru had consoled, stroking her hand along his jaw. "Nasty dreams make me positively aching for a good meal."  
  
For a moment, he had been comforted by her words, but that was before she caressed Angelus' face with the same damn hand. His face twitched imperceptibly as he witnessed their loveplay, and he felt the need to vomit. Repeatedly, but only after he had washed his face of all her fingerprints.  
  
"I'll show you positively aching!" Angelus growled at the vampiress as Spike strode down the hall towards the door. Her melodious giggles echoed around him as he left.  
  
And just in time too, it seemed, for some time between when the younger vampire shut the heavy door and when he left the grounds, a obscenely loud crash was heard from within. He shook his head in distaste and kept walking, with no real destination but away.  
  
********** 'Away' happened to be the cemetery, and of course the Slayer was there, in her usual haunts. She was fighting a demon whose name Spike couldn't recall, but he knew they were recluses, harmless unless they were in defense mode. The only reason it would expose itself was if it was seeking something. What the hell was it doing out here attracting notice? Then all the pieces came together-it was after the Forbidden Book. Either the Slayer had it in her possession or the demon was on its' way to get the prize.  
  
The combatants were obviously too busy to share in his breakthrough, so he seated himself on a tombstone, content to watch. He had come back to town to see the Book in action. And he would, with or without Drusilla. Seeing the Slayer get whipped would be an excellent start.  
  
Then, as he saw her falter, he intervened without thinking. With a pair of equally skilled fighters surrounding it, the demon soon fell, bewildered by the sudden ferocity of attack. After making sure the demon was through its' death throes, she glared at him. Though he had obviously been helping, she was about ready to kick his ass into the bargain. He himself had to consider out why he had stepped in. Two contradicting explanations ran through his mind.  
  
He had always planned on adding her to his body count, so obviously if she got knocked off by some other demon it'd ruin all his fun. But this 'good Samaritan' act would also be a perfect way to convince her he needed her help to get rid of Angelus. He knew both reasons were true, but the latter excuse would sound worlds better. The deed was done, and he could kill her some other day.  
  
Letting a condescending smile drift onto his lips, he waited for her to chastise him. He could use a good laugh as well as another fight. But she did nothing but stand there, obviously infuriated. He saluted nonchalantly then turned to stride out of the clearing.  
  
"I had it under control, Spike." Buffy's annoyed voice stopped him.  
  
"And I'm the ruler of Caucasia, off to have some warm beer in my cheap trailer park." the Brit shot back in a droll tone. "So if you'll excuse me."  
  
Buffy just snorted, warily amused by the irony between his accent and the image it brought. But she reminded herself that it wasn't 'Trailer Trash Spike' standing in front of her, but 'Unpredictable Killer Spike', complete with fangs and a nasty right hook. Her guard went back up, and she made the first move. Before he was able to react, she had him pinned against the ground, a stake within striking distance.  
  
"Very funny," she told him, her eyes stern. "So now that we've broken the ice, what the hell are you doing back in Sunnydale?"  
  
"Where's the trust?" the vampire laughed carelessly, the movement highlighting his cheekbones.  
  
"The trust is on vacation," his assailant informed him. "And since you were the one attacking me last night, I think it deserves a break."  
  
He just smiled at that comment. Frankly, he was rapidly getting out of his fighting mood, the problem of the soul returning foremost in his mind. Her presence only reminded him of her reunion with Angel. Secretly reliving the fact that he was disgusted by all that Angelus did (in either personality), he studied her face, coolly ignoring the stake's threat. She still bore a tiny cut from his fangs on the corner of her lip, and the bruises were almost invisible, thanks to Slayer healing and makeup. Though faded, seeing his handiwork was amusing. The stake suddenly pressed deeper into his chest, a peevish warning that she still wanted an answer.  
  
"Oh, come off it, Slayer." Spike responded, his lips curling contemptuously. "You don't want to stake me any more than I want to stake you!"  
  
She recoiled in righteous horror at the thought, and he used the opportunity to flip her over, allowing him to stand away from any pointy weapons.  
  
"Anyway, I don't feel like fighting right now," the vampire stated calmly, dusting grass off of his hands.  
  
"Because you know you couldn't win." Buffy shot back, hazel eyes smug.  
  
Striking quickly, he backhanded her and got her trapped up against a tree. He was done moving before she was able to realize her cheek hurt. His eyes gleaming with a touch of sarcasm, he refused to let her up. She squirmed uncomfortably, knowing he was gloating that she had been at his mercy last night as well. She fumbled for a new insult to counteract his intense eyes.  
  
"I get the point, Spike!" she finally said, spitting her words out in a caustic tone. "You're the devil's gift to women. Now please let me go."  
  
He just smirked at that remark. Appeased by the fact that she had been partially humble, he did as she asked. She fell to the ground, testimony to how hard she had been straining to escape.  
  
"What can I say?" the vampire responded, shrugging as she got back to her feet.  
  
"Well, Don Juan," she scowled, obviously not impressed. "You've got goo on your face. Real attractive."  
  
"Ah, but you're covered in it," he grinned, shaking a reproaching finger at her. "You need a shower more than I do."  
  
"Right, and you'd just love to watch, wouldn't you?" the Slayer answered, before getting a nauseous look at her comment. She just had to say that, didn't she?  
  
"Who's got an ego problem now?" he laughed roguishly, refraining from further dirty remarks.  
  
Instead, he reached out and wiped some of the thick gunk off her face in an offhand manner. He stared at it for a minute as if examining its' origins. Then, with his eyes raised to hers, he pretended to lick his hand clean.  
  
"You are so disgusting!" Buffy shuddered.  
  
Chuckling mirthlessly, he showed her the finger, still covered in the mystery excretion.  
  
"It's poisonous if consumed anyway." Spike explained with a straight face.  
  
She gave him an impatient look then decided to ignore his childish mood. "So really, why are you back? Honesty is now required as one of your few virtues."  
  
"I came back for the usual reasons." Spike explained, and was obliged to elaborate by her glare. "You know, cause some havoc, see some bloodshed. This is the Hellmouth, you know. But now."  
  
"Now what?" she queried when he trailed off, hesitant to continue.  
  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, luv." he scoffed, running frustrated fingers through his hair.  
  
"Probably not, but I'm listening," the Slayer prompted, partially curious and mostly on guard.  
  
"I've got Angel's soul." Spike revealed bluntly, the words spilling out. "Apparently the second time round he loses it forever and I'm the unlucky bloke who gets it. All because I had the misfortune of being around you two at the climactic moment. Pun intended."  
  
Buffy just broke out laughing. His story was so funny she could overlook the jibe he had made at her. "That's a good one. If it were true, it would be ironic."  
  
"Easy for you to laugh." Spike griped sullenly. "I'm never gonna get rid of the bloody thing."  
  
She realized he was telling the truth, but was still apathetic to his plight. "I'm really feeling the tears coming on. Poor Spike, right?"  
  
"You should be sympathetic!" he shouted, eyes flashing angrily. "This is all your damn fault!"  
  
Buffy crossed her arms obstinately. "What makes you think you can accuse me."  
  
"You banged the wanker after what? Five minutes?" the vampire interrupted triumphantly.  
  
She smacked him even before he heard her inhale in embarrassment. Her shame was just below the surface of her loyalty to duty, and he managed to bring it out with little effort. Spike's wit was as fast, pointed and painful as his fighting style.  
  
The pair tussled briefly, neither gaining ground in the rain of blows. Finally frustrated with the cocky vampire, Buffy threw a punch meant to knock him out. However, he dodged her fist and used all the momentum of her muscle to drive her into a mausoleum wall, where he swiftly followed to finish the fight. He placed a hand on her collarbone and another lay on her waist, but they were unnecessary as he was pinning her with his entire body. That easily, Spike claimed the upper hand, but did nothing else to harm her. She nearly flinched under his touch, breathing hard from exertion and the proximity of his steeled body. God, how often did he work out?  
  
"So, when do I get my turn?" Spike asked her flippantly, passing off her jitters as the result of combat.  
  
"Excuse me?" she muttered, busy trying to make it seem that she wasn't entertaining thoughts of ripping off his shirt and putting his muscles to other uses.  
  
"Oh, Slayer, you take my breath away." he teased in a lovesick voice, obviously imitating Angel.  
  
"Shut up." Buffy muttered, trying to squirm away. It didn't work. And she had a sneaking suspicion what he was driving at.  
  
"My heart starts beating every time you kick my lame ass!" the vamp continued his tirade, batting his eyes at an irate Slayer. She glared at him but could do nothing else.  
  
"And I'd kill if you'd lay me!" her nemesis managed to choke out, his rich laughter effectively ending any chance of further taunts.  
  
"There will be no laying of you, Spike," she said flatly, amazed that his iron arm still held her in place despite his amusement.  
  
"Oh, please. Like I would." He shot back, gaze immediately insulting. "If I were to do anything resembling fun with you, it would involve sinking my fangs into that pale neck of yours."  
  
She tensed up immediately, breathing deeply in preparation to fight for her life. He was surprised, not having realized his teasing had gotten her off guard. But he needed her on his side right now, so he filed away the incident for use at a later time. It hadn't been the most brilliant move to talk about biting her. Spike sighed, and shifted his position to lighten the pressure on her. Might as well make amends.  
  
"Truce?" Spike inquired, moving his face closer so his surprisingly warm breath brushed her face as he spoke. "Unlike me, you need to catch your breath."  
  
"Nice of you to care," the Slayer wheezed, hazel eyes wary. "It just that you smell like cigarettes, and I'm, err, allergic."  
  
Truthfully, whatever tobacco he used was aromatic and only a faint scent lingered, but the hasty explanation worked. He let her go with an unapologetic grin, and pulled out a smoke as if she had reminded him they were there. She moved to a nearby tombstone and sat down to inspect her fresh bruises. He followed, completely at ease now that hostilities had ceased, however temporary that state might be. Buffy scowled at him, envious of his effortless movements and uncanny ability to appear nonchalant in any situation.  
  
"What happened to truce?" asked the blond vampire, immediately noting her hostile face. The cigarette was held loosely between his lips, causing his speech to slur a little, but the words were still clear.  
  
"Truce?" she repeated incredulously. "I didn't think you even knew of the word, let alone what it means!"  
  
"Yeah, I've been reading a dictionary in my free time." Spike quipped, before growing serious. "You'll need my help though, to keep Angelus from finding the book."  
  
"Book? There's a book?" the petite Slayer grumbled, completely clueless.  
  
He removed the lit cigarette from his mouth, startled that she had no idea what he was talking about. At least now he had established the fact that the Slayer wasn't protecting the volume.  
  
"Do you pay attention at all to the happenings in your stupid city?" he demanded harshly, gesturing with his cig as he spoke.  
  
She irately grabbed it from his hand and ground it out under her foot, ignoring the exotic scent that floated to her nostrils. Maybe it smelled yummy, but nicotine is nicotine.  
  
He shot her a dirty look before quoting in an educated tone, "A cigarette is the perfect type of perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more could one want?"  
  
Buffy recognized the quote vaguely, from some book of Oscar Wilde she had read in college. Well, strictly speaking, the first year of college, before she had dropped out to be a full-time Slayer. She was only slightly surprised Spike knew the novel. After all, he had too much free time on his hands. Why not pick up a dusty book or two?  
  
"You may not have to worry about getting cancer, but smoke is bad for me." Buffy said aloud, amused by the aggrieved look he wore on his face.  
  
"A lot of things are bad for you, luv," he suggested with an insinuating grin, leaning casually against a tombstone.  
  
"Don't call me that," she protested, quelling the innuendo with an irritated flash of her hazel eyes. "What is it with the British and those nicknames they give people?"  
  
He shrugged and was about to answer her, but she cut him off, her manner instantly businesslike as she recalled his warning.  
  
"Can it, Spike. What 'book' are you talking about?"  
  
"The Forbidden Book," the vampire curtly explained, . "A spellbook that will surface somewhere in your little town."  
  
"I hadn't heard about this, but Giles probably has," she replied thoughtfully. "So why exactly is this my problem?"  
  
"In the right hands.err, the wrong hands," Spike amended quickly. "It contains spells which can end everything, in whatever way the bearer wishes. What is perhaps the most troubling thing about this book is that it contains its own power-a child could pick up that book and unleash hell on earth. Assuming of course that they had a human sacrifice to get the spell to work, but you get the point."  
  
"Is that all?" Buffy inquired dryly, impressed by his scholarly side but eyes still serious.  
  
"All I've been able to learn since I first heard about it, which is not to say that is 'all'." Spike replied. "I'm sure your Watcher could dig up some more tidbits if he were so inclined."  
  
She pondered this for a moment, before turning her gaze back to meet his. "I'll believe your story for now, but any tricks or double-crossing and you will be dust. I will find out if you have lied to me, don't doubt that for a second."  
  
"And if I were to ally myself with you?" the vampire ventured quietly, his chiseled face unreadable.  
  
"Pretty thought." Buffy shot back. "However, you have always had your own motives, and I don't see how this will benefit you."  
  
"It worked before against Angelus, didn't it?" he reminded her. "And it's not like I'm gonna pass up the opportunity of violence!"  
  
"What, you don't get enough action hanging around Angelus?" the Slayer taunted.  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. He did not deign to rise to her bait, instead shooting her a withering glance. She grew unnerved by the growing resentment in his eyes, which now seemed to be more a stormy gray than an icy blue. Why had that particular comment sent him off the deep end?  
  
He was furious with her. For all his reassurances he had a soul and her world was in danger, she obviously wouldn't believe him until disaster struck. All she could do was toss out petty insults that struck closer to home than even she realized. Action indeed.  
  
"Bitch." Spike hissed savagely, turning away with few words for his anger. "You can bloody well die. It's a shame I won't get to do the honors."  
  
He was stopped by her soft voice. "So he stole her?"  
  
"Drusilla? Yes," the vampire chuckled bitterly. "God knows what they're doing right now, but yes, he 'stole' her. Why, are you worried she'll be a bad influence on Angelus? I rather think it would be the other way around."  
  
"I'm sorry." Buffy intoned cautiously. His back was still to her so she couldn't read his face, but he suddenly whipped around to confront her.  
  
"That's what you think this is all about, don't you?" he snarled, infuriated once more. "I'm such a pathetic creature, still trying to get Dru back when she's already forgotten me! So I ally myself with my enemy to satisfy an old addiction I can't get out of my system. Well, it may come as a surprise to you, pet, but this isn't about her."  
  
"Then what is it about, Spike?" she queried, bewildered by his moodiness.  
  
"Him." Spike spat out, the simple word becoming a curse. "Him, dammit. The one creature on this earth I hate even more than I hate you."  
  
"Nice to know I've been replaced in your affections," the Slayer wryly commented, not really surprised to learn of his loathing for her.  
  
His face grew sour at her sardonic remark, but he had to struggle to hold his disapproval. It was a valiant effort, but only lasted for seconds before he gave up and dissolved into rich laughter. She stood amazed yet again at the spectrum of emotions he was showing her tonight, seeing the side of him that was not callous. Her eyes crinkled in humor as she also dropped her façade and added her chuckles to his. The moment seemed so unusual for them to be sharing, but there they were, two laughing enemies in the middle of a graveyard.  
  
"You just made my day, Slayer," the vampire said when he was finally able to speak. "You never told me you had a sense of humor."  
  
"Most vamps on the receiving end of my stake don't appreciate my wit, that's true." Buffy agreed mirthfully. "Their loss, wasn't it?"  
  
"Maybe they should be given the chance to let it grow on them?" he suggested mischievously, eyes glinting with the true laughter that he was holding back from.  
  
She couldn't help but grin at his proposal. Spike, however, was not so easily distracted from the issue they had been discussing before he had fallen apart. In front of the Slayer! He rubbed his temples, troubled by the fact that he had just flung his heart out to her. But yet, it still felt intact, and she seemed more inclined to help him destroy Angelus. Throwing caution to the wind, he re-approached the topic.  
  
"Angelus is literally hell-bent on getting the Forbidden Book." Spike softly reminded her, almost sorry he had wiped the laughter off of her face.  
  
"Do you feel better now? You know, after venting?" Buffy asked deliberately.  
  
She knew any further outbursts from him would be a liability to her mission. Assuming he wasn't a liability already. He had been surprisingly honest about wanting to destroy Angelus, opening up to the point that she wasn't quite sure if it was William the Bloody who stood before her. But she didn't know if she could trust Spike completely. What was stopping him from turning on her once she got rid of Angel? It had always been hard to figure Spike out.  
  
"Much," he drawled, cheerfully crossing his fingers. She ignored the gesture. "Not quite better until he's dead, but I can control myself if that's what you mean."  
  
"Then you're in." she said simply, hardening her stare slightly so he knew her earlier threats still stood.  
  
"Swell," the bleached vampire responded, a small quirk at the corner of his lips belying the apparent sarcasm. "So do we start looking for clues?"  
  
"Just as good a start as any." Buffy shrugged. "I might actually appreciate this, Spike."  
  
"Eh, don't thank me yet." Spike warned brusquely, but remembered his manners. "You're welcome nonetheless."  
  
The pair strode out of the cemetery with a matching pace. Though Spike was taller by a few inches, Buffy had developed her walking speed to rival even that of those much taller. Or perhaps he was slowing down for her, but they both moved fast enough that it didn't matter. As they exited the gate, she caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye.  
  
"You'd make a helluva therapist, Slayer," the vampire observed implacably, giving her only distant eyes along with the words. Cerulean blue eyes she could swim in, were they not frozen over when they regarded her.  
  
She blushed slightly, recalling his explosive mood after she had given him one too many taunts. Acknowledging his compliment with a nod of the head, they continued. The remainder of their walk to Willie's Bar was in companionable silence.  
  
A short time later, they entered the building, earning nervous glances from the proprietor. The rest of the midnight crowd ignored the couple, either not recognizing the Slayer or too long drinking to care. Shoving two drunken demons off of their barstools, the white-blond vampire then gestured gallantly for Buffy to take a seat. Eyeing him suspiciously, she did so, and he followed suit. Willie was obviously trying to avoid them, but as the pair shot increasingly meaningful glances towards the other end of the counter, he finally came over, unhappy about it.  
  
It was easy to see why-he had already had a run-in with a customer and it showed in the black eye and bruises. The chances that this customer had been after information instead of alcohol were very likely. Buffy eyed Willie's beaten face coolly, holding an arm out to warn Spike off. In this game, he was just back-up muscle.  
  
"Tough customer?" she inquired dryly of the bartender.  
  
"You have no idea, Slayer." Willie responded nervously, lightly touching a fresh cut. "And I'd like not to get more persuasion aimed my way, if it's all the same to you."  
  
"Tell us what we need to know, and persuasion won't be necessary." Spike said reasonably, but a darker tone colored his words. It was almost enough to make Buffy shiver.  
  
The man's eyes flickered over to the vampire's face, and betrayed surprise as he identified the speaker. "I was wondering why you weren't here earlier with her."  
  
"Her?" Spike asked, his hard face already showing he knew what the barkeep was talking about.  
  
"Yeah, her. Drusilla." Willie affirmed, cringing at the dangerous look on the vampire's face, though it was not directed at him. "But she wasn't the one that roughed me up. She had someone else with her."  
  
"Tall fellow, brown hair, looks like a throwback to Neanderthal days." Spike described scornfully.  
  
"As opposed to an anorexic, crazy tramp?" the Slayer maliciously retorted.  
  
The pair instantly glared at each other, pissed off by the descriptions of their past lovers. Willie licked his lips anxiously, waiting for the staring contest to end. He could practically taste an old grudge in the air, and if this couple broke into a fight, it would be bad news for his establishment. Enough furniture got broken with the regular crowd-he couldn't cover Slayer PMS as well.  
  
"We don't have time for this, Slayer," the vampire said after a minute, his voice bland and emotionless. She blinked, and wiped her face clean of anger. Satisfied, Spike turned to Willie and grabbed his shirt collar. "So what information did you give Angelus and Dru?"  
  
"The location of the Book," the bartender revealed hesitantly, prompted by Spike's hand at his throat. "It's buried under a seal in the sewer system. Somewhere under the cemetery by Rosewood Street. That's all I know, I swear it."  
  
"No protections on it?" Buffy interjected, nodding to Spike to tighten his grip slightly.  
  
"Just a couple archaic protector spells." Willie gasped. "They're pretty tough to get by if you're not an innocent, but it's not impossible to trick them."  
  
"Let him go," the blonde Slayer ordered, thinking out loud about this turn of events. "So Drusilla led Angelus here, and."  
  
"Now I'm confused. Isn't she your woman?" Willie interrupted tactlessly, addressing Spike.  
  
"Not anymore," was the vampire's grim reply.  
  
Spike almost looked relieved to have settled the issues Dru brought up. For better or worse, his loyalties were in the open. Aware of what the moment meant, but finding it necessary to move on, Buffy cleared her throat and laid a hand on his leather-covered shoulder. Startled out of his private thoughts, he jerked his head around at her touch. She removed her hand like he had just bit her.  
  
"We found out what we need to know." Buffy quietly explained. "There's some time before they figure out how to get the book. I'd vote we find a way to stop them."  
  
"Personally, I need a drink." Spike said, a shaky smile coming to his face.  
  
"My treat," she offered unexpectedly, sliding a ten-dollar bill towards Willie.  
  
"What'll it be?" the bartender queried.  
  
"Jack Daniels, straight." Spike ordered, eyes dancing with amusement. The Slayer was buying him a drink. Would wonders never cease?  
  
"Screwdriver," she said next, earning incredulous looks from both the men. "I've been 21 for a few months, you know!"  
  
"Legal, eh?" her companion chuckled, raising his scarred eyebrow in mock doubt. His surprise was real though-she didn't look very old at all. But of course, neither did he, and he was over 200 years old.  
  
Willie came back then with their drinks and she defiantly took a large gulp, not even flinching as the vodka seared her throat. Spike raised his shotglass in acknowledgement and downed the whisky quickly. The Slayer got her change and made short work of her drink. Striding smoothly towards the door, she obviously wanted to make it evident that she could hold her liquor as well as any man. Spike was curious as to whether her sobriety would last long. Because she was so petite, one drink would normally be the limit.  
  
"So what's the plan now?" he ventured, propping himself nonchalantly against a streetlight.  
  
"I don't have any ideas." Buffy confided, wearily twisting a strand of her golden hair.  
  
"Angelus won't try anything tonight." Spike told her. His voice was confident, but he was unhappy about that. Unhappy that he knew with a surety what his grandsire's plans would be, and how they involved him.  
  
"So you're gonna slow him down?" she inquired innocently.  
  
"Yeah, you could say that," he muttered, a scowl twisting his face. She made a small sound as if to ask what was wrong, and he held a hand up. "The three of us are staying in a mansion outside of town. I can take you there tomorrow, and you can listen outside. See if we can pick up any more clues."  
  
"Good idea," the Slayer sighed, fighting not to yawn. She turned her attention to her watch to see how many hours she had left to sleep. It was about a half-hour until daybreak. "You should probably be going. The sun will be up soon."  
  
He eyed the sky and realized she was right. "Tomorrow night then. Hour after sunset at your mum's house, OK?"  
  
"Yeah." Buffy agreed, before lapsing into her most impassive face. It just seemed important to act aloof. "Don't cook on your way home, that'd be a shame!"  
  
"I'll warn the rapists to watch out for you!" the bleached vampire sneered, winking at her. Neither of them were fooled by the unfriendly act.  
  
She gazed at him gravely for a moment, at those eyes darkened an impossible shade beyond their usual blue. "I wish I could trust you."  
  
He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. The wistful comment had not been meant to prompt a response. She nodded wearily and they turned on their separate ways home. The foundations of trust had been set tonight, but whether the cement would be solid had yet to be proved. As they walked off in opposite directions, they shook their heads, not quite able to acknowledge that alliance would be a possibility.  
  
A drop of demon goo from the earlier fight fell off of Buffy's sleeve to the pavement, and she shuddered all the more. A shower had never sounded so good.  
  
**********  
  
Spike parked his DeSoto haphazardly in the driveway and strode to the door of the mansion, hoping he wouldn't get caught in the sun. He was just in time, closing the heavy door as the first ray of light peeked over the horizon.  
  
"Good hunting, Spike?" Angelus asked him, tone deceptively friendly as he lounged shirtless against a wall in the foyer.  
  
"Yeah," the younger vampire said brusquely. "Pretty tired though. Think I'll go to bed."  
  
"Not exactly what I had in mind," the other smiled cruelly, moving forward towards his grandchilde.  
  
  
  
A bit of a longer chapter, but I liked writing this one, witty wordplay and all. As usual any and all thoughts, however random, are welcome. More on the way, per usual. 


	5. Mind Games

Chapter Four: Mind Games  
  
An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
FYI: The song I use here is by the Foo Fighters, called "Hey Johnny Park".  
  
  
  
"Honey, are you sure this is a good idea?" Joyce asked her daughter for the twentieth time, a worried look on her face.  
  
She didn't see her only child very much, so the visit had been an happy one until she found out Buffy was leaving to do something dangerous. Not that this was something new, but a mother had license to worry.  
  
"I'll be fine, Mom!" the Slayer responded grumpily. "I'm not going by myself, so if Angel figures out I'm there, I'll have backup."  
  
"And Spike is reliable backup?" Xander sarcastically told his friend. "Isn't he the one usually trying to kill you?"  
  
"I don't think he will turn on me." Buffy explained again. "Just trust me. Besides, he didn't last time we fought Angel."  
  
"Oh, so he didn't betray you, he just left you alone with Angelus." Willow interjected with unusual acid in her tone.  
  
"Circumstances were different," the blonde said. "He's pretty much over Dru now."  
  
"Is Drusilla back in Sunnydale as well?" Giles inquired. "If so, we have no proof that he is telling the truth."  
  
"You had to have seen him last night." Buffy answered matter-of-factly. "I mentioned Angelus and he goes off the deep end. There is some serious hate going on, and I think Spike having a nervous breakdown is proof enough. He told me bluntly that Drusilla had nothing to do with wanting to destroy Angelus. I mean, maybe that's part of it, but Spike's goal isn't to win Dru back."  
  
Xander was about to respond to this, but the doorbell rang and he shut his mouth, eyes resentful and concerned. Joyce set down her coffee mug and moved to get the door. The platinum-haired vampire stood there in his usual all-black attire, patiently waiting as Buffy grabbed a few stakes and weapons to bring along.  
  
"You don't need to invite me in, Mrs. Summers." Spike volunteered when Joyce cleared her throat uncomfortably, uncertain as to what would be polite.  
  
"You're right, she doesn't." Xander snapped, shooting a glare of pure venom towards the vampire on the doorstep.  
  
"Hey," Spike replied, holding up empty hands to show his good intentions. "I'd come bearing a white flag, but it doesn't suit my complexion. At least pretend you trust me."  
  
"See you later, Mom." Buffy said, cutting off any further banter and kissing her mother on the cheek. "Don't wait up for me, guys."  
  
"Just trust him?" she heard Willow mutter as she stepped outside. "We've been hearing too much of that lately."  
  
The Slayer shut the front door firmly behind her, brooking no further protest or warning. Spike had already gone down the steps and stood by his black car. His eyes were slightly resentful as they looked at the windows of the house. Buffy wasn't quite surprised. Her friends distrusted him, so he distrusted them. He noticed her scrutiny, turning to her. She looked carefully at his face, amazed at how haggard he looked. His gaunt cheekbones only made his exhaustion more evident. He yawned suddenly, rubbing the side of his neck slowly as if easing a muscle cramp.  
  
"Sleep much last night?" she asked him mildly.  
  
"No, not really," the vampire answered, flashing a tired smile. "So if you want to drive instead, that's fine with me. Just don't wreck it, this car and I have seen some bloody good times."  
  
"I don't drive." Buffy admitted under her breath.  
  
"Honestly?" he said in surprise, unsure he had heard her right. "I thought you were 21, pet."  
  
"I am," she explained, for some reason embarrassed. "I just never got around to getting my license."  
  
"I see." Spike murmured, looking at her seriously for a moment before shrugging and opening the passenger door for her. It had all the taste of a date, but Buffy knew it wasn't. The two of them were too businesslike to feel that way about each other. Something to do with that old vampire/Slayer rivalry thing.  
  
"The AC is broken," he warned her, slipping off his duster before starting the engine and pulling away from her house.  
  
"What happened to you?" Buffy said suddenly, concerned by the nasty wounds now exposed on his bare arms. She scooted closer to his side of the car, examining the cuts.  
  
"Let's just say," he hissed in pain as she probed one of the gashes. "Angelus likes his games."  
  
"He tortured you last night?" the Slayer asked, incredulous. "Aren't you pretending to be on his side?"  
  
"Not torture, Slayer," the vampire enlightened her, his face filled with the hate she had only recently been exposed to. "Violence in the bedroom. It's an entirely different game to him."  
  
"So you're.but...I thought you were.what about Drusilla?" she sputtered, unable to link her thoughts. Spike, gay? It seemed so unlikely.  
  
"Don't you compare me to that ponce." Spike growled. "I can't 'be on his side' if I don't play along with him. I wouldn't bloody do it if I had a choice."  
  
"I get it." Buffy said meekly, dropping the subject to spare his male pride. "How badly are you hurt?"  
  
"You want me to strip and show you the rest?" he said with a speculative look on his face, his usual teasing manner. Buffy let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding as the tension melted away. "I don't think I'd mind. It's bloody hot in here!"  
  
"Spike," the Slayer said flatly, warning him that her sympathy extended only so far.  
  
"Suit yourself," he grinned, blue eyes mischievous once again.  
  
Buffy settled back against the seat as they whipped through town. Spike's driving style was fast, but it couldn't quite be called reckless. Every twitch of his hand on the steering wheel was made with precision and quick reflexes. She stared listlessly at the radio, attempting to not look at him, but her eyes kept floating back to his wounds. It was still hard to comprehend how and why he had gotten beaten so badly.  
  
"See something you like?" he asked lightly, eyes still on the road.  
  
"Huh?" she stuttered. She should have known he would notice her gaze. "No, I was just worrying that you won't be able to back me up if we need it."  
  
"I'll heal." Spike assured her, smiling just a little. "It's fine, really. Unless you fancy playing nurse and fixing me up?"  
  
"Enough with the innuendoes." Buffy reprimanded. He pouted in a distracting manner, but she ignored it and started fiddling with the radio controls.  
  
"What station are you looking for?" the vampire asked with a raised brow. "It better not be any of that boy band crap."  
  
"Boy band?" she retorted. "Go wash your mouth out. Not like your unintelligible British screaming is much better."  
  
"At least they knew how to live a little." Spike defended, eyes narrowed to slits.  
  
"I didn't say anything in favor of boy bands," the Slayer reminded him, finally settling on a station. They were on commercial, so she turned back to the vampire with a sigh. "But they won't die of drug overdoses when their career hits its peak."  
  
"Point for you, luv," he grinned. Even unintended, her sense of humor was similar to his, making him unable to stay pissed at her for long. The quarrel had been too damn ordinary anyway.  
  
A song soon began, and the conversation ended, Spike hanging his arm out the window and Buffy stretching out in the seat, making herself comfortable. They had already agreed that she would hitchhike a ride home since Spike couldn't very well slip out to drive her home. It was just that she wasn't looking forward to begging a ride off of some horny truck driver.  
  
Spike was certainly suggestive, but occasionally polite and usually funny. Might as well enjoy the company while she had it. She sighed and settled deeper into the seat. They were near the outskirts of Sunnydale, heading past the industrial district, but she paid little attention to the surroundings, instead caught up in the music.  
  
"Come and I'll take you under  
  
This beautiful bruise's colors  
  
Everything fades in time  
  
It's true  
  
Wish that I had another  
  
Stab at the undercover  
  
Was it a change in mind  
  
For you?  
  
Your eyes still remind me of  
  
Angels that hover above  
  
Eyes that can change  
  
From blind to blue  
  
It's impossible  
  
I can't let it out  
  
You'll never know  
  
Am I selling you out  
  
Sit and watch  
  
Your every mood"  
  
The last guitar chords were fading out as Spike killed the engine, impeccable in his timing. Quietly, they got out of the car, instincts already on edge and wary. He nodded his head briefly, pointing her the direction of the south wall of the house. Walking silently, a remarkable feat on the gravel, she vanished behind the large hedges that were placed randomly on the property.  
  
Along that entire side of the mansion was a sitting room, where the three vampires passed the daytime hours if they were not in need of a bedroom. Presumably, they would discuss plans there as well, at least Spike hoped so. He made a brief round of the house, finding that no one was there except him. Dru and Angel had gone out hunting before he had left to get the Slayer, driving a Benz that the previous owner had kept in the otherwise empty garage. It wasn't back yet, but Spike took no chances, quickly heading into the sitting room, striding through the hallways as silent as a ghost. He opened one of the windows in the room which was situated high enough on the wall that Buffy could wait there and avoid detection. He just had to hope their voices would carry, assuming Angelus would give her something important to hear.  
  
"Slayer!" he whispered out the now open window.  
  
"Eh?" she grunted back cautiously.  
  
"I've opened this window," he informed her. "The gardening shed is right behind you, so there should be some trashcans or something you can use if you need to be higher in order to hear."  
  
"Got it." Buffy succinctly responded, moving off to find something to stand on. The sounds of her doing so ended almost as soon as she finished talking.  
  
Just then they both heard the front door slam, followed by approaching voices. Spike flung his duster over a chair, not really caring if his wounds were visible. It might actually aid their cause. Sitting down and closing his eyes as if asleep, he waited, emphatically pushing away the unwanted trepidation the situation was causing. He managed to distract himself from betraying nervousness by dreaming up colorful curses. A fellow never knew when a clever insult would come in handy.  
  
"Spike!" Dru greeted him, voice wispy and far away. "Look what Angelus and I found!"  
  
Stirring from his feigned slumber, Spike lazily opened his eyes to see his ex-lover smiling happily, resplendent in the silk dress as black as her heart. Angelus was not far behind, walking in with a wheelchair, whose inhabitant was not present. Random spatters of their blood marred the shining silver of the chair's metal. There was enough left over for Spike to smell that it was fresh blood, still not dry.  
  
"Thought you might like this," was the older vampire's greeting remark, an unkind smile coming to his face.  
  
"Lovely that you thought at all," Spike answered in a bored tone, still not moving from his sprawl on the chair. "And that you waste the results of that miracle on me? I'm flattered."  
  
"You always were a witty one." Angelus laughed heartily, the mirth not reaching his cold eyes. "I've sometimes wondered if you would be as amusing if someone cut out your clever tongue, but I've never had the opportunity to find out. Don't tempt me, Spike."  
  
Growling, Spike leapt up from his seat, power surging through his muscles. His grandsire tensed, but the younger vampire tore past him, obviously intending to get a weapon. Outside the window, Buffy held her breath. She couldn't really blame her ally, and knew that the sight of the wheelchair had been as painful a memory as Angelus had meant in to be. In fact, she felt bad that he had been insulted so. But her pity aside, he would screw everything up if he attacked the other vampire. She rapidly assessed her options, but Drusilla came to the rescue without even knowing she was doing it.  
  
"He tasted like frustration," the vampiress idly observed, tracing her finger along the wheelchair's arm. "Helpless, like a kitten, but he was more unhappy. He knew what he could not have."  
  
Both men relaxed, somehow brought to their senses by her insanity. They gave each other a fleeting glance and dropped back into their human faces. The Slayer shook her head in wonderment that they could discard their macho attitudes so effortlessly. It was a mystery exactly how they did it, but Angelus was already at Dru's side, suavely kissing the side of her neck.  
  
"Get a room." Spike told them rudely, looking at them with heated distaste.  
  
"Jealous?" the older vampire queried, the expression on his face practically screaming that he thought himself more of a man.  
  
"Not in the least," was the reply, a derisive glint in the vampire's blue eyes. "I had forgotten you like to flaunt your conquests."  
  
"Didn't you know Dru likes to flaunt herself?" Angelus grinned. "It's rather refreshing after the Slayer. She's pretty enough, but there's more to sex than shyly opening your legs."  
  
The three vampires laughed at this, and outside Buffy blushed, trying to convince herself that it was just Angel's evil side talking, and that her lover had never thought any such thing. The crude taunts continued from Dru and Angelus, only making the Slayer more and more humiliated, tears of anger coming to her eyes. She let go of the windowsill for only a second to wipe her watery eyes and lost her balance, collapsing to the ground in a loud crash of metal. Instantly alert, she leapt to her feet and ran away silently before she could be captured. She'd just have to hitchhike a ride back to her end of town earlier than planned. Dammit, dammit, dammit.  
  
"What was that?" Spike interrupted inside, perfectly aware of what had happened. Injured feelings. "I'll go check it out, shall I?"  
  
"Just a stray cat, I'd wager," Angelus said dismissively. "We've got better things to do than chase it."  
  
"Such as?" the other vampire asked with raised brow, his expression of polite interest.  
  
"Plan an apocalypse," his grandsire revealed with a wolfish smirk.  
  
"Oh, that's bloody brilliant." Spike snickered, his laughter covering up any noises outside. The Slayer had fallen down but surely would stay. All business, that one was.  
  
"You think so?" his grandsire snarled, ignoring Dru's whimpers as her two men argued. "I think your days as a cripple softened you, William. Don't have the stones for torture anymore."  
  
"Don't have any less balls than you do, mate," the younger sneered coldly. "But if memory serves me right, your last plan fell flat on its' ugly stone arse. Allow me my skepticism."  
  
Drusilla's eyes flickered over to Spike, silently reproaching him for the role he had played in that failure, but to her credit, she said nothing. Spike looked back at her curiously. Perhaps she was still not quite sure of her loyalties. But as much as he hated to realize it, the destruction of Angelus meant more to him than Drusilla. She might harbor feelings towards him, but he couldn't take rejection from someone he had worshipped for a century. Her fickle nature had finally gotten to him.  
  
"This time the plan will work." Angelus impatiently said, fists clenched in rage. "Dru and I know where the book is, how to get it, and what we need to open it."  
  
"Run that by me again?" said the other, running a hand through his short silvery hair. He tuned out Angelus' explanation about the Book and its' powers, but listened intently to the last part that he didn't already know. Willie hadn't told them anything about trouble opening the book.  
  
"An ancient safety feature, I suppose," the brown-haired vampire was explaining. "Even if you can get to the book, you cannot unlock its powers unless you have the blood of a certain someone."  
  
"The Slayer." Dru softly interrupted, a dreamy look in her eyes.  
  
"One and only." Spike declared with a wry smile.  
  
"The moon will be grumbly and hungry soon," the vampiress continued. "We'll feed it that nasty Slayer's blood. No sense in it watching our frolic on an empty stomach."  
  
"You mean a full moon, luv?" her younger companion asked indulgently, a century's worth of experience helping him unravel her cryptic words.  
  
"Exactly that." Angelus affirmed. "Which is in two nights. It'll be simple to get Buffy, I'll just act like I've still got a soul, and she'll welcome me with open arms."  
  
"If not open legs." Spike told his grandsire, cheerfully stealing the punchline.  
  
Angelus chuckled grimly, shrugging his shoulders in agreement. "Now then, I'm gonna get some sleep before I head out to get the Book."  
  
"You?" the other male queried with a mild tone, "You don't need 'us' along?"  
  
"Dru can come if she wants, but I was trying not to go into overkill," was the explanation. "There's a lot of competition for this thing in town and the three of us would be a bit noticeable."  
  
"Fine by me." Spike responded with a feigned yawn. "I'll just stick around for the fireworks later."  
  
"Glad you agree with my plan," the oldest vampire in the room said acidly. "Til tomorrow night."  
  
The other two filed out of the room quickly. Spike shook his head in amusement at the pair of them. Perhaps they were hoping to get a quick in and out before sleep became necessary. Under the pretense of putting away some books, he didn't immediately follow his 'family' out. Once they were out of earshot, he sauntered over to the window and called out for the Slayer to give her the 'all clear' but she didn't answer. Must have slipped away once the important talk had ended. He closed the window swiftly and slid off to his own bed. As long as Buffy had heard what she needed, he could relax for the moment.  
  
  
  
That's about all for now.I'll be a bit busy since three of my teachers have seen fit to dump big projects on me, (Grr, snarls in frustration) but hopefully I can get more up in a week or two. It all depends, so if you want more cross your fingers and write glowing reviews! 


	6. Soul Food for Thought

An AU fic (no Initiative, chipped vamps, or Riley! I left out Dawn too just because). I will warn readers, there is a little bit of S/A in here, but not all parties involved are willing.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are products of Joss Whedon and Co, but most of the stuff in this story is mine. You know, all the witty comebacks, sexually awkward situations, and rabid tattooed monkeys! Okay, okay, maybe not the rabid tattooed monkeys, but you're an intelligent fanfic reader, you get the point. Thanks to everyone involved with the creation of this story. The few, the proud, the insane.  
  
Chapter Five: Soul Food for Thought  
  
Buffy looked back worriedly as Xander's car roared away down the street away from where she stood. Much to her friend's dislike, at the vampire's mansion. If he tried making a U-turn it would take too much precious time to convince him to leave again. Not until the last sounds of the engine had died out did she take in a large breath of the night air and move forward, opening the door without hesitation. She moved through the deserted hallways with dread, clutching a stake with locked fingers. Only a few of the many items decorating the walls distracted her, namely the paintings. The subjects of all of them, from pastoral farm scenes to stuffy historical figures, had been destroyed with several wicked slashes. The Slayer rolled her eyes, never surprised by the taste in art vampires lacked.  
  
Voices drew her attention in one of the upstairs rooms and she quietly opened the door, prepared to finish the fight she had came for. Instead, the scene numbed her, and she stayed silently by the door, unable to look away. Fortunately, neither could the vampires, as occupied as they were with their own pursuits.  
  
Somebody was chained onto the bed, their naked body writhing in an attempt to break their bonds. Angelus was leaning over their captive, watching the man's eyes with an malignant captivation. And a man it was, evidenced by a view of his anatomy as his tormentor shifted his position to grab something from the nightstand. It was a knife, its silver blade glowing pale in the dim lights of the room. Even after it had been trailed down the prisoner's arm to draw blood, it still gleamed with a cold impassivity.  
  
Movement from the corner of her eye drew Buffy's attention. Drusilla had emerged from the corner of the room to lap at the blood in a perfect trail down the muscled arm. Her pale eyes locked onto Buffy as she did so, but she said nothing, choosing to see but not reveal. Dropping her gaze with the vampiress, the Slayer considered helping the man but still could not move, her body as paralyzed by the dark scene as the voice of the man on the bed. Perhaps he was gagged but even that could not explain his absolute silence as he endured pain. Trust Angelus and Drusilla to pick a random victim from the streets and have him turn out to be a sadomasochist.  
  
Angelus rose up from the bed and for a second Buffy was afraid she had been spotted but instead her ex-lover knelt by the side of the bed. The now unobstructed view of the chained man made all the pieces of the sick puzzle come together. It was Spike. His eyes were closed almost in denial of his situation but they flew open suddenly. Angelus was fingering his grandchilde's cock, and she couldn't look more than the second it took to identify what was happening. Instead, she looked at her ally's face, hoping to spare her face from getting any more red. She wished fervently that she could slip out of the room, but could not when she had a job to do.  
  
The two vampires surrounding their youngest 'family' member were doing a thorough job, Drusilla now exploring the cut on her childe's arm with a knowing tongue and soft hands. As their combined efforts brought the bleached blonde vampire to the edge of orgasm, his gaze turned to the Slayer, but he seemed to see through her. Suddenly he was climaxing, all his muscles arching up from the double stimulation, and gasping out of habit. But around all this, he smiled, and it was not bittersweet like it should have been due to the pain and his loathing for Angelus. No, he smiled directly at her, and it was a new look on him, almost human, almost beautiful. This realization confused her, and her paralysis was broken. Buffy's muscles gave out on her, and she bumped loudly into the wall behind her.  
  
Angelus snapped his head up with a snarl, rising from the bed. Striding towards her in all his nude fury, he was primeval and magnificent. Cursing herself for her apparent fascination with sexy vampires, she rolled to her feet and lunged at him, but he dodged her attack. She whirled around to face him yet again, only to find themselves outside, and her assailant fully clothed. Shaking off her dizziness, she ignored the scenery change and attacked like a madwoman. Everything she tried to throw at him seemed ineffective, and so their deadly round went on, oddly silent of all but her harsh breaths. Finally, she managed to position her stake and struck home, knowing it would be her only chance. At the last second, Angelus' enraged face morphed into Spike's.  
  
"You've ripped my bloody favorite shirt!" he peevishly complained before dissolving into dust.  
  
"They all look the same," Drusilla noted softly, her voice carrying words with many meanings.  
  
The Slayer turned piercing eyes towards the other woman but did not move, sifting Spike's ashes through her hand in confusion.  
  
"In the end, we are all the same." Angelus told her, suddenly standing next to her. "In the end, we are all ash."  
  
"What?" Buffy said, her expression even more puzzled.  
  
"You're just gonna be one with the mold and earth a bit sooner than you planned," he grinned, shifting into his vamp face and burying his fangs into her jugular.  
  
She gasped hoarsely with all the breath she had left.and found herself in a twisted mound of sheets and comforters, throat still heaving with instinctive panic. She checked her alarm clock, seeing that it was really early in the morning. Dammit, she had to be to work in a few hours. She worked at the department store in the mall, and a girl would think they'd have enough help so she could come in late, but no!  
  
Sighing, she got out of bed. Sleep was impossible after dreams like that. She just hoped they weren't true, because it was a little hard to deal with your own death. Padding to her kitchen for a warm drink, she started heating up water to make cider, but discarded the idea as she watched the tan powder fall into her mug.  
  
"Ashes to ashes." Buffy murmured, dumping the contents down her sink without even taking a sip.  
  
**********  
  
"Ready, Dru?" Angelus said playfully, shaking his childe's shoulders lightly to jar her out of a trance.  
  
"I've seen her!" the vampiress whispered excitedly. "She's perfect!"  
  
"Who? The Slayer?" he asked quickly.  
  
"No, no.a little girl who wants to pet the moon, but it won't come to play with her." Drusilla said, a enraptured smile on her lips. "We can give her the moon, my Angel."  
  
"Lead the way, and she'll get more than she bargained for," the brown- haired vampire said with a grin.  
  
Spike watched the pair of them go out the door, Dru skipping playfully. He shrugged and went back to try and sleep. He figured it would be better to let Angelus get the book so the Slayer could destroy it and her lover in one swoop. He knew it wasn't the best idea under the circumstances, but no plan was ever perfect. He'd have to find Buffy later and see if she had any other ideas. In the meantime, he retreated to his bedroom to get dressed. He could have his fun without Dru and Angelus. Just like they had their fun without him.  
  
"This is so much fun!" Dru exulted as they strolled down the streets. "We're close to her, I can sense it."  
  
"About time." Angelus grumbled, his eyes on the ground. He had seen plenty of girls that looked pure enough to get them inside to the Book. Hell, he had seen a few guys too, but Dru was set on using the one she had seen.  
  
"There she is," the vampiress pointed, her scarlet talon pointing at a teenager sitting out on a curb near the Bronze.  
  
The vampire looked the girl over. He hadn't thought she would be this old, but she certainly looked pure, one of those nerdy types. Her brown hair had a few daring highlights through it, and her blue eyes beneath glasses roamed the streets nervously, showing how uncomfortable she was. The couple approached her swiftly, Angelus hauling her up by the arms and Dru covering the mouth of the panicked girl.  
  
"Hush, sweet." Dru cooed, her free hand stroking the teenager's hair comfortingly. "You'll sleep in the stars soon, and their lullaby is bloody and sweet."  
  
"Dru, she's fainted." Angelus pointed out, smiling cruelly.  
  
"Oh, poor thing." Drusilla said sympathetically, her eyes sliding over the girl's unconscious face, before an idea came to her. "She's pretty. Can we play dress-up with her?"  
  
"Not now," the vampire reminded his childe. "We have to get the book with her to let us in."  
  
"A shiny key," giggled the vampiress. "to let us have real games. But I still would like to dress up in her."  
  
"Later, I promise." Angelus laughed, noticing the slight change in plans. Dru always had the most creative ideas.  
  
The two of them, Angelus carrying the girl in his arms, ducked into Rosewood Cemetery to the sewer systems. It wouldn't be long until the prize was secured. Then the world would scream in pain. Unless, of course, they decided to take its voice away.  
  
**********  
  
"Watch that left hand, Slayer!" Spike said elsewhere in the same cemetery, watching Buffy fight a warlock who was about to unleash a spell with the aforementioned hand.  
  
He figured this sorry wanker was after the Book too, and was all for letting the Slayer kick his ass. The spellbook would be safer if Dru and Angelus took it to the mansion. And who was he kidding? He could steal it easily if he needed to. It had been awhile since he had lifted something for fun.  
  
"Thanks," she hollered as she dodged the energy ball, which went on to shatter a tombstone "But no thanks."  
  
"A fellow would think you're antisocial, pet," the vampire grinned, his blue eyes laughing at her.  
  
"Go lurk in some other shadow, Spike!" Buffy retorted, still trying to fight the elusive warlock. "I'm just fine!"  
  
"Right," he said dubiously, before switching into some new voice with a sensuous undertone. "I can see the bruises right through those tight pants of yours."  
  
She finally managed to get a blow to connect with the warlock's face and spared a glance towards her observer to see one really sexy smile. Quirking her eyebrow at the vampire, she failed to see that her opponent had gotten up, and so caught a blast of power in her stomach. She groaned and doubled over, but saw her enemy's feet rushing by, perhaps to make a break for it so he could get to the Forbidden Book. Deftly sliding a foot out, she tripped the man, causing him to strike his head on the ground and get knocked out.  
  
Prideful, she straightened to her full height and walked over to where Spike stood. Then tripped over a tree root, to her chagrin. He moved to catch her before the ground did, and the moment made them uncomfortably close. Well, it wasn't the first time.  
  
"Your nose was so high up in the air, small wonder you tripped," the bleached blonde vampire said uneasily, as uncertain what to do with the situation as she was. His grip on her arms shifted so she could take more of her own weight.  
  
"Yeah." Buffy said half-heartedly, not even aware she was agreeing with him. Their eyes locked and couldn't seem to break apart. His gaze was magnetic, a melting ice-blue. He tore himself away first, helping her stand on balance before letting go of her wrists.  
  
"By now, Angelus will have the Book," he said, suddenly informational like he was talking about something mundane, like the weather or the stock market, not the end of the world. And most definitely not about them. "Any plans, milady?"  
  
"I say we go there tomorrow night and kick his ass," she said with conviction, her hazel eyes determined.  
  
"There's the Slayer I know!" Spike grinned with delight. "As opposed to that ineptitude you just displayed..I thought you were going soft for a minute there."  
  
"Don't get any ideas!" Buffy warned him, pretending that he was threatening to kill her again. But she was perfectly aware that he knew why she had been off guard. By staring at him. At him smiling! She shuddered, images from her dream coming unbidden.  
  
"If I never had any ideas, I'd be dust by now.," the vampire said with a smirk, his eyes not looking at the Slayer but at another meal. "If you'll excuse me?"  
  
He moved towards the unconscious warlock without bothering to ask permission. Buffy was stunned, and it took a second of staring at him before she realized he had vamped out and wasn't joking. Spike hauled the man up to his feet and was about to bite down when the Slayer tackled him from behind, causing all three to tumble to the ground. The warlock still didn't awaken.  
  
"Do you mind?" the platinum blonde asked her angrily, yellow eyes flashing.  
  
"Hi, I'm the Slayer!" Buffy snapped as they rose to their feet. "Sorry I forgot to grab my name badge before I left home."  
  
"Ah, my diet." Spike shook his head, fading back into his human face.  
  
"Yeah, your diet! I swear you are the master of understatement!" she shouted in exasperation.  
  
"I'm famished, luv," he calmly explained as if there was no murder involved. "So unless you're offering?"  
  
"You know, it's not too late to just stake you!" the Slayer mentioned, withdrawing the weapon in question and launching herself at Spike.  
  
"Balls!" the vampire cursed loudly as he dodged her attack. "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"What I should have when you came back." Buffy said menacingly as she charged towards him again.  
  
"Fine, then bloody finish it!" he said, stopping dead in his tracks and immediately wondering what was wrong with him. What was with the sudden death wish?  
  
The Slayer had no time to stop her attack before she crashed into a motionless vampire. They ended up on the ground, her hands curled around his biceps to brace herself. She looked down on him to see what had come over him and saw only confusion to mirror her own. Not sure if she was making a mistake or not, she dropped the stake resignedly. She tightened her grip on his arms to get leverage to stand, and he immediately hissed in pain.  
  
"Oh.arms! I'm so sorry!" she apologized as she remembered yesterday in the car. And the knife wounds from her dream. Was her vision true after all? "Let me look at them."  
  
"They'd get better sooner if you'd let me feed." Spike snarled resentfully. If he had been in this situation a couple days ago he would have been drinking the Slayer's blood and the fact that he wasn't was pissing him off royally. Screw that measly magic-user, that one was just appetizer material.  
  
"We've already been over this." Buffy said sternly, but her fingers gentle as she examined his arm. There were still several cuts, any one of them a candidate for the one from her dream. She gave up with a sigh, deciding she had seen a mixture of truth and falsehood. "And before you mention it again, I'm not on the menu."  
  
"Let me ask you something," her companion responded thoughtfully as he got to his feet. "You've never been fed on by a vampire, have you?"  
  
"Not recently, " she answered, her look one of amazement at his stupidity. She was still alive, wasn't she?  
  
"Well, Angelus would be more than happy to do you up right." Spike said, eyes cruel as he twisted his words like a knife to bloody her. "I'll let him know."  
  
Buffy just stared at her ally, at a loss for words. Maybe he was trying to make up for his moment of weakness in their fight, but the level of hatred he carried in his entire posture right now was too much. Considering their earlier bantering, his mood change was frightening. Then, of course, she had attacked him when she could have negotiated. He was practically bristling because she had not given him the respect he had partially earned. 'Time to make up, Buffy.'  
  
"Would you really?" the Slayer asked him, expression startled. "I thought."  
  
"Hey, you're the one who broke truce, don't look at me like that!" the vampire defended himself with an unpleasant smile. "And giving you to Angel is the best way to get back into the fold, you have to admit."  
  
"There was one time I thought he'd have to feed on me." Buffy revealed, changing the topic with a rueful sigh. She wasn't sure why she was telling him this, but he had been honest about wanting to betray her, so hell, why not? "During the Ascension, a rogue Slayer named Faith poisoned him to distract me from stopping the Mayor. The only cure was Slayer's blood. So I went after Faith and Angel drained her dry.but if I had failed to bring her, it would have been me."  
  
"And you would have let him." Spike finished the story, head cocked to the side in curiosity and his eyes full of dark knowledge.  
  
"Yes," she whispered with faraway eyes, before gesturing towards the warlock. "Have a little if you want."  
  
The vampire raised a brow in surprise, but moved away at the prompting of his empty stomach and the pain in the Slayer's eyes. Drinking just enough to whet his appetite, he let the man fall back down and licked his mouth clean. The Slayer had developed a sudden fixation on the ground, obviously not wanting to watch.  
  
"So, how does it feel to fail your sacred duty?" Spike teased, feeling like himself again.  
  
"He was really annoying me anyway." Buffy explained, feeling more comfortable now that he wasn't in sadistic mode. "I don't understand why your soul lets you do that but maybe."  
  
"Oh, so we're getting into this?" he interrupted with a short laugh. "Well, let me start by reminding you that the living kill as well."  
  
"Yes, Spike. They're called serial killers," she said patronizingly.  
  
"And they have souls, don't they?" the vampire demanded with fierce blue eyes.  
  
"Well, yeah." Buffy was forced to admit. "Their problem is that they don't care about their fellow man. Or they're psychotic. "  
  
"But what you're saying is that though they have a soul, they are still evil and can't feel."  
  
"Uh, yeah, that about sums it up," she grudgingly responded, knowing she was verbally trapped.  
  
"Follow my logic." Spike ordered, grinning widely. "If they are souled and evil, obviously the soul and morality are not connected."  
  
"Meaning?" she shot back impatiently.  
  
"Meaning it's not a given that I'm evil and unfeeling," the vampire concluded.  
  
Buffy gestured at the half-drained warlock with one eloquent hand.  
  
"Nature, luv. I have to eat something," he chuckled. "How is he any different from the beef you had for dinner? Just because you didn't slaughter it personally doesn't change that a cow died. And for the record, I didn't kill him."  
  
"Wait, so you can't kill now?" she asked, almost triumphantly.  
  
"Well, I could have offed him," Spike replied slowly, actually thinking about the question. "But my shiny new soul doesn't interfere with a damn thing I feel like doing. Just sits there, and I suppose I'm not crying over it cuz it's not really mine."  
  
"So why aren't you trying to kill me right now?" the Slayer questioned him, lifting a stake as she said more thoughtfully. "Why am I not killing you?"  
  
"Killing Angelus, remember? I've played nice," the bleached vampire said with a rakish smile, his voice dripping with promises and sensuality. Buffy almost hated him for it. "Unless you fancy another round to reassure that all vampires are evil."  
  
"You are," the Slayer glared balefully, letting him know he wasn't playing nice anymore.  
  
"You have the right of it." Spike continued without noticing her outburst, still sidling closer. "I am pretty wicked myself."  
  
"Exactly!" she exploded, halting his advance. "So don't tell me you care about anything."  
  
"I do, pet," he answered, suddenly solemn.  
  
He reached out a callused hand and touched her cheek in an oddly sweet, intimate gesture. She stiffened at first, but relaxed, surprised at how comfortable it felt. She barely noticed he was still talking, her skin tingling at his touch. Wait, this was Spike, right? She really needed therapy.  
  
"To feel is a choice, not to do with souls or anything else," her ally was explaining. "I choose. Angelus does not."  
  
"Angel feels!" Buffy shot back, wrenching herself away from Spike's touch.  
  
"Angel is forced to feel by an especially active soul!" Spike growled, amazed that they were arguing yet again. Or still arguing, as was more accurate.  
  
"And you, I suppose." she sputtered in rage, hazel eyes narrowed.  
  
"I? I am sick of this study of my nature!" the platinum blonde vampire yelled. "If you need another pussy-whipped, broody vampire to shag, for the love of God don't look at me!"  
  
Buffy looked at him, obviously hurt and shocked at the turn the discussion had taken. Defiant, Spike stared right back at her, unwilling to take back his comment while he was still so angry. But that rage evaporated when he saw how watery the Slayer's eyes had become.  
  
"Buffy, I." he started to apologize, but she wouldn't let him.  
  
"Don't call me that!" she snarled, eyes as hateful as his had been most of the evening.  
  
Whipping around without another word, she ran out of the cemetery, obviously trying to avoid tears until she got home. He just had to rip that scab open, didn't he?  
  
"Bollocks. That certainly went well." Spike grumbled to himself as he picked up the stake that had started this whole mess and started home. 


	7. Only Happy When It Rains

Still the same disclaimer as always, none of this belongs to me..sigh. I tried, but nobody at ME would listen.  
  
Anyway, this chapter's finally got a little bit more Spuffiness, so enjoy!  
  
Chapter Six: Only Happy When It Rains ************************************************************************  
The sun had set an hour ago, but the full moon was not visible, obscured by heavy clouds who were actively pouring rain down. Indifferent to the downpour, the Slayer sat alone in the graveyard, listlessly twirling a stake between her fingers and reading the stones around her. Those stones with meaningful messages for loved ones, now rotting corpses who couldn't care less. Unless they had died of mysterious neck trauma, in which case they would eventually be dusted. She wondered idly if vampires ever read what had been written in their memory when they rose. Or maybe they just defaced their tombstone, destructive even as fledglings.  
  
She sniffled again, the thoughts of vampires inevitably leading to Angel. Tonight had been one crying jag after another, interrupted by the dusting of a vamp or two. She was no mood for a quick merciful slay tonight, pummeling them furiously before staking them in the heart. It looked like tears were about to come on again and by now she had no heart to resist them. She still couldn't believe the possibility that she would kill Angel again. No, it was Angelus now. She had purposely neglected to tell her friends that she and Spike were taking her lover on tonight. Willow would be sweet, try to rely on her magic to make things better and only make it worse. She couldn't turn to them, not this time. Overcome by the weight of the past and shadows of the future, Buffy buried her head in her hands, silent tears trickling down her face.  
  
A hand rested suddenly on the back of her neck, but made no further move, waiting for her to stir from her crouch. When she didn't, the hand touching her began to knead the muscles of her neck and upper back, strong fingers easing some of the ache she carried with her. Whoever it was knew what they were about, causing her to arch her neck back to heighten the relief the massage brought. She looked up, expecting to see Xander, or even some stranger who happened to be in the cemetery after hours. It wasn't. Surprised, she dashed a hand across her watery eyes, hoping they weren't too red. It would probably be one of the highlights of her intruder's unlife to see the Slayer crying.  
  
"You alright, luv?" Spike asked, staring at the ground to avoid the look of disgust she was likely shooting at him. He had just been trying to get her attention, was all. Right. "I figured we were meeting at your mum's house, but she said you hadn't been there, so I looked in here."  
  
"Yeah, sorry." Buffy muttered, pretending as hard as the vampire that no touching or massage had occurred. "I got caught up in something else."  
  
"Are you crying?" her fighting partner incredulously demanded to know, finally having looked her in the face.  
  
"No, I am not," she protested, acutely embarrassed.  
  
"Right, and some rainwater is making your eyes all red and puffy," Spike scoffed, slicking his soaked hair back. "You look like a drowned rat."  
  
"Yeah, well, I'm real upset because I haven't managed to find another pussy- whipped shag buddy," she snapped, remembering the insult he had dealt her the night before. "And I'm sure you look real tall, pale and handsome yourself when you cry!"  
  
"Me cry?" he raised a brow, his rich laughter temporarily dampening her anger. Had she just called him handsome? The vampire smirked at her, unable to apologize about his angry comment before he had set the record straight. "My type doesn't cry."  
  
The diabolical smile he shot her with that comment made Buffy smile and finally laugh. That tiny giggle soon exploded into a sneeze and a coughing fit. The two of them were drenched from the rain, but it was bothering her a lot more than it was him.  
  
"Let's move indoors, shall we?" Spike gallantly suggested, gesturing at his soaked clothes. "Come on, luv, my leather coat is getting all wet."  
  
"I swear that duster is more important to you than." the Slayer shivered, unable to finish her sentence before another sneeze came on.  
  
He led her into a crypt and managed to coax her into sitting down. Vigorously shaking the excess water from his coat and hair, the resulting spray of water barely missed her. He ignored her little snort of indignation.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked him from her perch on a sarcophagus, slightly panicked as he began pulling his t-shirt off.  
  
"Wringing it out." Spike answered with a quick flick of the eyes in her direction as he did so, a expression that obviously thought her a prude . "Sorry about ruining your sense of modesty, I just don't like wet clothes."  
  
"Are your pants next?" Buffy murmured, examining her shoelaces to avoid further peeking at his toned chest and six-pack. If he was going to strip in front of her without warning, she'd give him discomfort as well. The trick was to not get burned with the same match.  
  
"Uh." was his response, rather disconcerted at what he thought he heard in the Slayer's voice.  
  
"Let me guess, your monosyllabic response is an attempt to be broody?" she sweetly smiled, her lips strained from the effort of not laughing at the surprise on his face.  
  
Two could play his damned game. But then his face sobered, recalling the insult-fest from the night before. Well, she had deliberately brought it up again, but the sudden blanching of his already-pale face affected her more than she had meant. She could sort of see how she had pissed him off so much the other night. They both felt waves of contrition wash over them for the way they had acted, and so apologized accordingly.  
  
"Sorry for what I said." Spike started calmly, inwardly cursing his temper.  
  
"I'm sorry I questioned you." Buffy finished quietly, wishing she wasn't such a bitch.  
  
The simultaneous statements took a while to sink in, but the vampire broke the silence.  
  
"I think the shock of you apologizing started my heart beating again!" the bleached blonde said sarcastically, then watching her face cloud over with something like regret, swiftly replaced by irritation. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?  
  
"You're hopeless!" she screeched in frustration, getting up and pacing around the room. "It's a waste of my time to even."  
  
"Oh, shut it. Apology accepted." Spike gruffly offered, absentmindedly twisting his black shirt.  
  
She immediately stopped her rant, looking as though she had been slapped upside the head. She hadn't really thought until then that they could be anything resembling friends. Enemies definitely, allies on a good day, but friends? It seemed impossible, but he had made an overture, at least willing to respect her. And for once it wasn't the kind of respect that came from wanting to kick her ass into next week or from wanting a favor.  
  
Spike watched her with a mild expression, taking in every detail of her tired face. The worry he saw there was overwhelming even to watch, and he couldn't fathom how the Slayer handled it. The wisps of damp hair and smeared mascara, rather than making her akin to a drowned rat, only emphasized the loneliness on her face. No, lonely wasn't even the right word. More like forlorn. His intuition was screaming at him that she needed compassion and he might as well give it while they were under the pretense of being friendly. So he stepped over to where she had stopped pacing and put a hand on her shoulder, its weight comforting.  
  
Beyond the point of caring if he snapped her neck next, Buffy leaned up against his bare chest, needing a moment of rest more than he needed to be temperamental about every word she said. To her amazement, he pulled her in closer for a brief hug. She let his arms rest on her back, burying her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. The mutual embrace only lasted a moment before they pulled away, seeming to know the very instant when they stopped thinking about how pleasant it was and began to wonder what they were doing.  
  
"What happened to hating me second most of all?" she asked him, smoothing down her matted blonde hair.  
  
He didn't answer at first, his eyes gleaming with something inscrutable. How was he supposed to explain himself to her when he didn't even have a clue? He sat down on the sarcophagus with a sigh.  
  
"You were crying," the silver-haired vamp explained finally, as if that were the answer to everything. "Why? And no lies this time, Slayer."  
  
"Buffy," she said firmly, sitting next to him on the stone.  
  
"Buffy." Spike acquiesced with a imperceptible smile, letting her continue.  
  
"I don't know if I can do it again." Buffy began with a weak twitch of her lips. "Kill Angel. And this time it would be for good."  
  
"Can't resurrect ash." Spike grimly pointed out, expression deliberately empty of any emotion.  
  
"Oh, I know you had the whole stake-Angel plan," she sighed almost contritely. "But you might have noticed my lack of enthusiasm."  
  
"I wouldn't want to dust Dru either," the vampire agreed sympathetically.  
  
"But you would if you had to!" the Slayer shouted, perilously close to crying again. His only answer was a steady gaze back at her, telling her nothing and yet everything. He could do it, and somehow that angered her. It made her believe she too could find his strength, and she still wasn't sure she wanted to. "And you're not the one who made the same stupid mistake for a second time! You didn't create a monster!"  
  
"No, I just am one," he said seriously, his blue eyes vaguely sad.  
  
"You aren't the worst of your species, Spike." Buffy admitted with a groan, burying her head in her hands. "And keep a check on your ego, you are dangerous. Just more rational than some others I could mention."  
  
"So you aren't threatened by me?" the platinum blonde asked with amusement and a dangerous glint in his eye.  
  
She did have a point though. As unpredictable as vamps like Angelus were, that made them somehow easier to stop if you got near them. Predictable because you already are expecting anything from them, and have come prepared. Sense had some use after all.  
  
"Don't even get me started on that," the petite Slayer mumbled from her slouched position.  
  
"Oh, please do." Spike smirked, folding his arms over his shirtless chest, and certain this rant would be worth listening to.  
  
"I can't understand why I never come out on top with you." Buffy confessed, her face creasing up when he gave her a measuring look. "You know what I mean, stop being dirty. When we fight, when we argue, it's always a stalemate. Everything about you confuses me and."  
  
"You should start worrying about yourself, pet," he cut her off pointedly, placing a hand firmly over her mouth. "I learned just about all I know from him."  
  
They both knew who 'him' was, and the short respite their discussion had gained them disappeared, crushed under the weight of apocalypse. Spike looked at her again, at her bedraggled state and the golden hair pooling on her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were tired, despairing, and as his blue gaze softened in response, her face filled with a sudden need, nervously looking away from him as if to hide. This moment had been building up all night.  
  
He leaned forward and lightly kissed her, meaning it only to be brush across the lips so she didn't slap him too hard. But she immediately deepened it, tentatively placing her hands at the nape of his neck. Her mouth was in no way hesitant, aggressively kissing him like she could taste truth and comfort on his tongue. Unable to avoid the heady feeling of her mouth on his, he finally joined in passionately, running his hands across her shoulders. The force behind the kiss amazed them both, and they let it continue, daring to see how high the power would take them. It screamed through their veins, demanding and brutal.  
  
Soon the bruising nature of their kiss lightened, a subtle change as his lips ceased to plunder hers, instead teasing her mouth gently, cherishing the moment. She responded with a tantalizing exploration of her own, completely lost in the spicy scent of his skin. His hands moved down her slim body, feeling her up roughly in contrast to the emotional kiss, but she didn't care, her hunger desperate. She finally understood what it meant to have your body be the only anchor holding you in life, and for once was glad it held her here, allowing her such feeling.  
  
He pulled away gradually, giving a final nibble on her lower lip and letting her come up for air. The vampire moved his arms from where they had wrapped around her torso. They stood at arms length, a comfortable distance for the thinking they had to do.  
  
"Wow." Buffy broke the silence, touching her swollen lips with a flustered amazement, eyes still lost and dreamy. "What was that?"  
  
"Snogging." Spike breathed, thinking that her 'wow' was an understatement. This was the last thing he had thought would happen tonight, and suddenly it was the only thing he wanted to occur.  
  
"Spike, I." she managed to say before he was on her again, viciously swamping her senses with closeness and a tongue that had more uses than shooting off witticisms.  
  
It only took her a instant to register that they were at it again, her arms already snaking around his waist to rest on his muscled back. God, he was half-naked! And there was something else they were supposed to be doing, but as their tongues dueled, she couldn't for the life of her remember what. Spike was aggressive, and she hadn't had a kiss like that since.  
  
"Angel!" Buffy cried as she pushed herself away from the bleached blonde vampire. He was stunned to see her in tears when only seconds ago she had been moaning against his mouth. "Spike, I can't do this with you. I love Angel. We both know that."  
  
Frustrated, he stepped away, still able to sense the arousal in the air, but knowing that the concern in her eyes was more important. The vampire quickly tried to collect himself and only could decide that he was surprised. He hadn't meant to get out of control, and hadn't tried to. At first. She had started the heavy kissing and petting session, got his blood up, and now was upset with him? He could only take so much of her hypocrisy. Pulling his t-shirt back on, he confronted the Slayer.  
  
"That.that was for good luck," he angrily explained, effectively masking the little bit of hurt and stir of new feelings. "Which I believe you'll be needing, because you've taken leave of your senses. I'll remind you that Angelus is out for your blood."  
  
"When isn't he?" she snapped in reaction to his harsh tone.  
  
Spike stared at her, unable to believe she was overlooking the fact that Angelus was hunting for her so that he could open the Forbidden Book. He would have thought she'd take the damn apocalypse seriously, but he had underestimated her hormones and attraction to his grandsire. Buffy glared right back, wondering when exactly her ally had turned into Captain Obvious. Of course Angel would want to drink her blood, she was the entrée of choice worldwide. What the hell was Spike talking about?  
  
"Well, since you want him, it looks like I've helped you out for the last time. Cheers," the vampire bitterly told her, pacing around the crypt in frustration, trying to figure himself out. Why the hell was he worried about what happened to her?  
  
"What?" she responded blankly, still avidly wishing his skillful lips were worshiping hers.  
  
"I'll see you at the mansion when you've cleaned up." Spike said dismissively, letting his eyes slide insultingly over her soaked self. A cruel smile flickered over his lips. "Thanks for the good time."  
  
He blew her a mocking kiss and strode out into the now-clear skies, completely missing the hurt look that flashed through her eyes. But it faded as she realized her role in tonight's activities. As usual she had been quick to chastise Spike, but she had been the one who started it all. Well, her and the view of his chest, but that wasn't quite his fault. Her musings were getting her nowhere except the realization that he had been a big help, soul or not. Could he lose the soul? From the way he had stormed away from her, she was given the distinct impression he would do anything to get rid of it and shove that fact in her face right before he killed her.  
  
Couldn't blame him really. He was the true definition of a desirable ally, but she had completely screwed everything up. This wasn't unusual for Buffy, but she needed to make things right for once instead of driving people away. She had taken enough chances in her life. What difference did one more make? She still wasn't sure what would come of this, but her mind was made up. She recklessly jumped to her feet and ran outside, hoping to catch her fighting partner before his fuming pace took him out of earshot.  
  
She was prepared to shout the vampire's name, her legs tensed to begin a chase, but the effort faded as Angelus emerged from a nearby crypt. She eyed him warily, aware now that she had been too miserable to heed Spike's warnings.  
  
"Hey, Buffy." Angelus smiled gently, playing like he still had the soul.  
  
"I know you're back to bad," the Slayer told him, her lips quivering slightly.  
  
Angelus grinned wickedly, his entire face and attitude changing. Buffy just glared at him, preparing to run. She didn't get the chance. Striking swiftly, he hit her once across the face, hard enough to knock her out.  
  
"That's good," he told no one in particular as he picked up her crumpled form and left the graveyard. "I've never been good at subtlety." **************************************************************************** ****** OK, everyone, I just about have the next chapter done, so hopefully that will be up soon since I've had more time to write than usual. Thanks for reviews! -CenizaAzul 


	8. Blood Ties

Chapter Seven: Blood Ties  
  
Buffy shifted uncomfortably, her entire set of muscles screaming in pain. Moving a leg experimentally, she caused a wave of agony to rush up to her head, reminding her also of the large sized lump Angelus had put there when he knocked her out. Her ankle must be twisted in a bad way. As she shifted her weight onto the good foot, she figured since she was chained to a wall, she wouldn't be going anywhere fast. She opened her eyes warily to look at the rest of her body, only to discover it covered in bruises, cuts and various wounds. Why she hadn't woken up sooner was a mystery. She groaned as a spasm ran through her tortured body. She struggled to remember what had happened. Then someone's throat cleared and she raised her matted blonde head to see her lover. But definitely ex-lover now.  
  
"Good evening, sweetheart," he said with deceptive gentleness. "About time you woke up."  
  
"Angelus," the Slayer croaked, her throat painfully dry. "What do you want now?"  
  
"Do you need to ask?" the brunette vampire said with a twisted grin and mocking tone. "You. It's always been you."  
  
In one quick motion his large hand reached forward and grabbed her chin, his grip tight and bruising. Unable to do anything but stare at him defiantly, Buffy helplessly shivered as he ripped her shirt off with the other hand. His heavy body moved closer, pressing against hers and she struggled to move away, almost feeling suffocated by his bulk. With a growl the vampire lowered his angry slash of a mouth to her tight bloodless lips, hurting her swollen face even more. His brutal kiss was broken off by a very drunk Spike. Crashing into the back room in an uncoordinated stagger, the other vampire's eyes took in the sight of the Slayer, chained to a wall practically in her underclothes.  
  
"I think I need another drink," the bleached blonde groaned loudly, grabbing a wall to hold himself steady.  
  
The point of going to a bar and drinking himself into oblivion was to avoid seeing Buffy's demise, even though the chit would probably have loved to watch his, especially after that disastrous kiss. But the damned alcohol hadn't been good after all. After one beer he had decided he would be of little use to anyone stoned. He was cursing himself that his loyalties were torn, but right now some part of him was still glad he had stopped the rape. Just to make sure, he kept acting drunk, knowing it would take the others off guard.  
  
"Well, Angelus, at least it's not the brass bikini." Spike noted raucously, trying not to look at the bloodily exposed body that was Buffy.  
  
"It was a thought," the older vampire said with a glance at the weakened Slayer. "But Dru wouldn't hear of it. Wanted it for herself."  
  
"Ouch." Buffy interjected. Nobody else in the room could tell whether she was talking about Angelus' unsubtle dig against Spike or the wounds she bore.  
  
"By the by, where is Drusilla?" Spike questioned, rubbing a hand over his forehead as if he were feeling the onset of a hangover.  
  
"Cleaning up," his grandsire answered with a sadistic chuckle. "She was a mess after she finished breaking in the Slayer."  
  
"Broken in?" Buffy snapped, her spirit still stronger than her body. "Unchain me and we'll see who gets broken!"  
  
"Not having fun slumming, Slayer?" her ex-ally taunted, striding closer to give her the full effect of his icy blue eyes. Give her reason to fear.and wonder if she had pushed him over the edge.  
  
She didn't answer, the set of her face impassive. Spike was considering forcing her to talk, but her blackened eyes flashed to the side, near the door. He shot a final smirk in her direction before turning away to recognize Drusilla, who had just entered. Buffy ignored the last, the sight of his once semi-friendly face twisted into that of an enemy uncomfortably painful. Why should it surprise her that her rejection had destroyed any connection between them? With a shock, she realized there were even worse explanations. Spike had lied to her all along.  
  
It made terrible worlds of sense. Every moment he had professed to be her ally, he had been scheming against her. Her presence here was proof enough. He should have known Angelus was coming for her, and hadn't bothered to give her warning. Just giving her one cryptic message, all the while inwardly laughing, knowing she wouldn't understand. He had seemed so genuine, the patient understanding when she told him her fears, the surprise on his face when she had pulled away from his kiss. The sad expression he wore as he admitted he was a monster. And all of that had been a lie.  
  
She watched tiredly as the vampiric family made their greetings, Spike placing a penetrating kiss upon a giggling Drusilla. At that point choosing to look away from the scene, Buffy didn't notice that Spike's eyes were on her the entire time. Angelus drew her attention back with his irritated comment.  
  
"Lay off, Spike. You're drunk," said the older vampire with an aggrieved air. Obediently his grandchilde backed off, apathetic to doing so, since he had only kissed her in celebration and to further his inebriated act. Angelus knew that his claim on Dru was solid, but still insisted on being protective.  
  
"It's intoxicating." Dru mumbled, swaying her hips to a faraway melody. She looked up at Angelus with a vicious little smile on her features. "All time is stopping to stare at our little bit of destruction. It wants to rip and tear but has to wait its turn. Naughty child. "  
  
The two went into an extended liplock and for lack of something else to do, Spike wandered back over to the Slayer, both ignoring the noises behind them. Though at first she refused to look at him, Spike's persistence won out. He pulled Buffy's chin down with gentle pressure, but overwhelming nonetheless. She hissed as one of his fingers grazed a particularly nasty burn. What the hell had Dru done to her?  
  
"Not feeling so well, luv?" he inquired with only mild concern in his eyes. She ignored it, temper blazing. He was faking it again. At least Angelus had been honest about wanting to kill her.  
  
"You're an excellent actor." Buffy enigmatically responded, her steely eyes refusing to respond to the confused brow he had at the moment, as if trying to figure out if she was serious. But it was just him trying to reassure her she had a friend before they ripped out her throat.  
  
"Come again?" the vampire asked. Did she know that he was playing along with Angelus and Dru? Was his attempt to fool the others that obvious?  
  
Her only answer was to spit full in his face. Granted because she hadn't had water in a few hours, it was a small amount but her message was clear. Blankly, he wiped it off and gave her a glance. Her eyes were shining with hatred and then he understood. She believed the act too. He supposed he should have been insulted that she had such a low opinion of his promise to be her ally but then again he had been in a rather stormy mood when last they had talked.  
  
He hazarded a glance back towards Angelus and Dru, but they looked unlikely to emerge from their fervent petting session any time soon. A wicked grin spread across his lips. Might as well tease the Slayer a bit and see if she wised up to the situation. She surely knew an enemy wouldn't be as friendly as he was about to be.  
  
"Do you suppose we could rival them?" he asked her conversationally, head indicating the other couple.  
  
"Get that idea the hell out of your mind." Buffy told him flatly, voice lowered so the others wouldn't hear. "You can't believe how much I hate you."  
  
"Hate is such a strong emotion," the vampire smiled, his blue eyes drowning pools. "Heated, volatile, perfect for this."  
  
He leaned forward and captured her dry lips, gently moistening them. She kept her mouth firmly closed but he didn't mind, busily persuading her, in a careful assault. Even last night when he had been angry at her it had been a large effort to not continue kissing her. Was she honestly trying to act like she hadn't felt the same way? He had spoken truly about hate. It involved such heightened emotion, it easily changed to passion. And if she was going to die tonight, damned if he wouldn't make her give in to desire first.  
  
Buffy was astonished that he would have the temerity to try and kiss her after his betrayal. Did he think she was that easily won over? Did he believe she would accept his traitorous lips? Those cold lips which at this moment were patiently erasing the ache of her bruised face, offering a tantalizing contrast to Angelus' brutal attack earlier. The light teasing he was inflicting on her was driving her crazy but she still wouldn't let herself relent, pulling her head away. He withdrew without a word, searching her face.  
  
She didn't think there was much difference after all between the kisses of Angelus and Spike. Granted, the latter was much softer on her wounded face, but she was being violated all the same. He was just inflicting another kind of torture. What else would he be doing? An enemy in a room full of his friends and none of hers wouldn't so much as look at her without an ulterior motive. But dammit, her lips didn't hurt anymore.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked her with an undertone of worry, thinking he had inadvertently hurt her.  
  
"Well, I am chained to a wall and about to die." Buffy retorted, rolling her eyes. *And I made you stop kissing me*. "How fine are you expecting me to be?"  
  
"Oh, is that all?" the vampire answered with a tiny grin, something between agreement and wry sympathy. He leaned back towards her. "In that case."  
  
"You touch me and I swear I will." the Slayer threatened, her eyes nothing but deadly serious. They did not falter in their promises to find a way to hurt him.  
  
"Scowl? Narrow your eyes menacingly?" Spike scoffed back, unaware that he was sabotaging her trust. "Very fearful prospect. Or maybe you can spit at me again?"  
  
"Whole lot of good that did me," she griped, face set stubbornly.  
  
"And you were expecting what?" he mentioned with a fleeting glance at her abused face. Very little would do her good tonight if he didn't find a way to help. But Buffy didn't know he was trying. Would it be better to not get her hopes up?  
  
"Why are you arguing about this?" the Slayer sighed, her face grimacing as she shifted her body and moved some limb that didn't want to be moved. "The impending doom of the situation evidently eludes you."  
  
"Not quite, I'm just making the best of it." Spike replied, voice easily empty, though he wasn't sure why he was playing this game. Forcing kisses on her? Great plan, and now he couldn't back out of it without giving up the ruse.  
  
"So what now, optimistic one?" Buffy challenged him with a fire in her hazel eyes.  
  
"You aren't objecting? That's a first." the platinum-haired vampire responded. He circled her like a silvery predator, power rippling under the lean lines of his body. "Well, you did spit on me. I'd say it's my turn."  
  
"What?" she asked him incredulously, a hint of confusion finally stealing into her tired face.  
  
"If I may?" Spike courteously questioned her back, refusing to elaborate and thus throwing a bit of mystery into his words. Buffy just blinked at him, confused. What was with the continued polite act? He didn't need to pretend anymore.  
  
"Whatever it is, no way in hell. Besides, they might be done soon," she indicated the other pair, now pinning each other on the floor, but still miraculously clothed.  
  
"They don't matter," her captor arrogantly smirked, and she couldn't help smirking back, because at this point it was true, but not for the reasons Spike was thinking. She accepted her death, and nothing else they did to her should be important. But she wanted to hold onto herself, the scruples that made her who she was.  
  
"Fuck you, Spike." Buffy told him in the most apathetic tone she could summon. Her anger wasn't fazing him, so perhaps distance would. Couldn't be much fun for him if she stood there like a corpse.  
  
Her tactic didn't work in the way she thought it would. Moving like a cold wind, Spike loomed over her, all civility gone. His chilling blue eyes bored into hers, his entire body tense with anger. In one smooth motion, he was too close for comfort and for once it was fear (not lust) that made the Slayer uncomfortable.  
  
"I'd watch my mouth, were I you," the vampire told her in a biting voice, raw along the edges. "Don't go offering if you won't follow through."  
  
With that final snarled word, he moved still closer and brought his face to the side of hers, along a raw cut that ran down from her hairline to her cheek. In a purely animalistic motion, he ran his tongue along the length of the wound, licking away the dried blood. He continued his ministrations without waiting for any protest, determined get his point across, returning the spit while he was at it. She groaned, giving up her indifference easily as a wave of heat unrelated to pain rushed through her body. With a small victorious smile against her cheekbone as he heard her, Spike relinquished the last of his spontaneous rage. He continued the kiss, softly exploring the edges of the wound.  
  
Was this the fatal attraction for her? Buffy was seriously wondering. Was there something about vampires, their menacing ability to take her blood, that turned her on? Because Spike's tongue lazily lapping blood from her, now making teasing circles around her temples, was making it really hard to remember that there was danger here. Danger that slapped her across the face when Angelus' voice returned to her ears, the lazy amusement of a killer coloring his words.  
  
"Buffy, you slut," the older vampire applauded dryly, more humor in his voice than rage. "And Spike? A job well done, although it doesn't take much to get her to moan."  
  
There was malice in Angelus' words, and it hurt her deeply. Partially because it was him saying it, and partially because the full force of her stupidity was brought back. Torn away from her anger at Spike and the lust that seemed to go along with it, she was pulled away from that part of her that felt. Forced to realize that this was just another one of their games. The bleached blonde vampire had pulled her away from reason, making it all the more painful to be snapped back to reality.  
  
"Just breaking her in," the younger replied, his smile cold and calculating. He let his gaze linger on Buffy an extra second, and she could have sworn she saw something else in his eyes. Something of warning, maybe? Well, duh. Why couldn't they just kill her already?  
  
"It's time." Drusilla interrupted with a sharp grin of celebration. Buffy wearily gazed at her, mind racing to find a way of escape. But the odds were against her.  
  
"So, are you ready for this, Buffy?" Angelus questioned with mocking concern. "I mean, if this is making you uncomfortable, just say the word."  
  
"Go to hell," the Slayer told him vindictively, the bitter look in her eyes shouting that she wished he had stayed there the first time.  
  
"Oh, I intend to," her ex-lover informed her with a smile. "And I was thinking we were gonna take every drop of your blood, but maybe we can spare you to see the apocalypse you failed to prevent."  
  
Almost reverently, Drusilla stepped forward with a knife, rather small as blades go, but obviously still sharp enough to do its job. It was already dulled with the stain of blood, and Buffy realized it was probably her own. Wounds all over her body ached like a low-burning fire that hadn't died yet, as if they were acknowledging the weapon that had brought them into existence. Her eyes flickering over the room, the Slayer allowed herself a moment of regret for all the things she could have done, the normal life that would have been hers if Destiny hadn't intervened. She couldn't even get an ordinary death, but deep down she had known she wouldn't.  
  
And of course there were her mistakes she would never have the chance to remedy, even though two of them were staring her in the face, their masculine faces full of deadly intent. The three glided towards her chained position, their bodies carrying a stillness for all that they moved, fought, and fucked.  
  
"I think we'll let Spike do the honors," Angelus said speculatively, perhaps suspicious of the younger vamp's motives. "He can make himself useful, since I've done all the work so far. Not that that's unusual, eh?"  
  
Spike coolly ignored the innuendo, accepting the blade into a slim, powerful hand. Steadily, he made the final few steps towards the helpless Buffy, no purpose in his eyes, but no softness either. Whatever he had tried to tell her before in his gaze had disappeared, and truthfully, Buffy had already forgotten it, transfixed by the gleam on the knife's edge.  
  
"From where?" the platinum-haired vamp asked impassively. Buffy was shaken out of her fixation with the blade to face her killer, whose voice sounded like death. Small coincidence.  
  
"Doesn't matter, as long as it bleeds," the brunette replied. "Neck would be easiest, I suppose."  
  
With those irreverent words, Buffy's doom was finally sealed and she watched Spike approach, curiously unable to summon fear. She wondered if it would hurt, certainly, but saw no purpose in being afraid. It wouldn't help anything. It wouldn't help the world, and she allowed herself guilt for failing in her duty to millions who never knew she fought for them. They shouldn't have had to find out she was there, but they would know her absence and the lesson would be painful. Nearly overcome by guilt and not wanting her captors to know it, she closed her eyes.  
  
The vampire approached the Slayer, mind racing to find a way to thwart the scheme, but there was very little it seemed he could do without arousing suspicion. He'd have to cut her, and just hope she didn't bleed to death. Wait, that was it! Angelus had said something about the Book only taking the Slayer's blood. What would happen if his were mixed in? It was a long shot, but as he prepared to draw the knife across Buffy's pale skin, her closed eyes worried him. The fact that she had given up meant he had to try harder to get her attention.  
  
Prompted by Drusilla's impatient sigh, Spike pressed the stained blade across the Slayer's jugular, a slight blow which nonetheless welled with blood. Buffy finally came out of her thoughts, gazing at Spike with something akin to shock. It was like he had woken her from a dream, but the thick feel of blood creeping down her collarbone proved this was a nightmare. She muttered a few choice expletives and it almost made the vampire grin, seeing her spirit come back.  
  
"Shh," he whispered, and she looked up at him, bewildered by his attitude.  
  
His expression was hard to read, and yet he had a tiny smile, but it wasn't on his lips, instead glinting in his eyes. There was nothing malevolent in it, which puzzled her more. Had she underestimated him, as ridiculous as the notion sounded? That brief flash of friendliness became invisible as Spike lowered his head along with the knife. She followed his motion and noticed him press his thumb against the sharp side, creating his own small cut.  
  
The Slayer's mouth tightened, guessing what he was up to. Looking up swiftly, Spike dabbed his thumb in the copious blood trickling from her neck, mixing the two before the others could notice. Buffy watched as he stepped away, bearing a vivid smear on his hand.  
  
"Give it, Dru." Spike said with authority, holding his bloody hand out for the Book.  
  
She did, with a beatific smile, and everyone in the room watched as Spike swiped the blood along the Forbidden Book's spine. It immediately began to glow, a faint light which intensified as the bloody streak was absorbed into the cover. Almost humming, the tome's power resonated through the room, causing Dru to collapse to the ground clutching her head.  
  
Finally, Angelus summoned the courage to approach the radiant thing, opening it with a steady hand which didn't mirror the uncertainty in his eyes. It opened underneath his hand, and Spike cursed inwardly. His gamble hadn't paid off, obviously because the amount of his blood had been minuscule compared to the Slayer's. So much for contaminating the process.  
  
Angelus laughed, a sound which managed to combine joy and sadism all in one, a laugh which could give nightmares to people of all ages. He lowered one hand to help Drusilla rise from her sprawl on the ground and the two of them clustered around the Book, flipping through the pages, discovering everything they could. Spike chanced a look back at the Slayer, who returned the gaze with a wince and roll of her eyes. The sometime-enemies bonded silently, recognizing their failure but also that they had done their best to prevent it. Helluva epitaph, that-- "She tried to save the world".  
  
"I want to try that one, my Angel!" Dru said excitedly, pointing a fingernail on one page.  
  
"Right now?" he questioned, thinking hard. "We don't have any captives we can sacrifice to start a spell."  
  
As if on cue, Buffy coughed, the sound raspy due to the cut in her throat The vampires looked at her with wolves' eyes, all of one mind. She was there still, and could be of more of one use.  
  
"Well, it would be an ironic end." Angelus chuckled, flipping to the beginning of the Book to find the incantation to drain life energy into the magic's power.  
  
"Bloody hell." Buffy cursed under her breath, not even caring that she was using a Spike-ism.  
  
She refused to close her eyes as her ex-lover began to recite in Latin, wanting to take in all the information her senses would give her. If that included the painful feeling of her life-force being sucked away so be it. But nothing happened. Angelus repeated the incantation a few times, voice growing more frustrated each time round.  
  
"Angelus?" Drusilla timidly interjected. "I can't see the Book anymore. It was painting the room a lovely bloody red, but everything is dark now. All the colors are gone!"  
  
The older vampire shot his childe a piercing glance, understanding full well what she was saying. The Forbidden Book wasn't working, for some odd reason. What had gone wrong? They had done everything they were supposed to, and right now Buffy should be a shriveled corpse, and the earth consumed by torrents of flame. But that stuff just wasn't happening.  
  
"Dammit!" the brunette swore, tossing the Book to the floor in utter fury.  
  
"Something rotten in the state of Denmark, Peaches?" Spike observed snidely, though he couldn't be more pleased that his blood had ruined the scheme.  
  
"There should be!" his grandsire howled, eyes flashing dangerously. Spike held up his hands in placation, and this was his mistake. "Is that a cut on your finger?"  
  
"Yeah, had a little fight at the bar, someone else's broken beer bottle sliced my thumb open," the platinum-haired vampire explained nonchalantly, completely ignoring the deadly undertone in Angelus' voice. But his grandsire believed the story.  
  
"You're aware your blood mixed with the Slayer's and contaminated the entire process, aren't you?" the other vamp snapped caustically, grabbing the offending hand in an iron grip. "You frickin' idiot!"  
  
"Just because you have control issues and don't tell me anything, suddenly this is my fault?" Spike argued, wrenching his wrist away from Angelus. "Don't think so, guv."  
  
"Angelus? Your words have gone solid," Drusilla interrupted, almost in a panic. "They're choking me, touchable. Black and smooth, sliding down to my gut. Make them stop. Ms. Edith says families aren't supposed to fight."  
  
"Why don't you go slide your black, smooth tongue down her bloody throat?" Spike suggested, the convenient diversion allowing him to evade Angelus' interrogation. It earned him a dirty look, but still the older vampire moved away to comfort his childe.  
  
Dru seemed to live in her own world most of the time, and when she emerged, you always got the feeling that she was only half with you. Now that he had been forced away from her by the attentions of his grandsire, he recognized something more about why he was tolerating the change. It wasn't completely because the vampiress had so obviously moved away from him-he had seen that she had never been close to begin with. But he had thought she was.  
  
Little signs she had sent, tiny smiles in his direction and even their bloodily fulfilling sex had always held more significance in the other place she spent her time. He couldn't comprehend how he had cared for her so long, when the relationship should have had more life. The irony of *that* thought did not escape him, but thoughts of life reminded him that Buffy's was slipping away.  
  
He cast a cautious glance towards the other two, but they were talking earnestly. He cast a quick prayer that they would not finish until he was ready for a fight. That was what it was going to come down to, but it might be helpful if Buffy didn't bleed to death before one of them was dust. Walking with his usual lithe grace over to the Slayer, Spike saw the blood that had caked down her front. She noticed his perusal, but just rolled her eyes, trying to reassure her ally. Not to mention she was amused by the confrontation that had taken place.  
  
"Thank you," she hoarsely spoke, but she was thinking more than she could express. She understood the implications of what he had done, that the cut on his thumb was no accident and that she had been wrong about a lot of things.  
  
"Still holding on, I see?" the vampire said lightly, frowning down at his t- shirt as if deciding if it would stop the bleeding, before giving up and taking the entire thing off. It would have to serve as a temporary bandage.  
  
"You're teasing me." Buffy joked weakly as he wrapped the fabric around her neck. He didn't respond to the innuendo, obviously concerned by the shadow she was fast becoming. Had he really cut her that deep?  
  
"I don't know what that bleedin' wanker did with the keys." Spike growled in frustration, looking around the area anyway.  
  
"I'll just wait here," she told him nervously, eyes indicating a place beyond his shoulder. "Spike, move!"  
  
He didn't turn around fast enough to avoid Angelus' fist, but he recovered quickly, giving his grandsire a sneer now that all alliances and loyalties were known.  
  
"Come on, grandpa! S'all you got?" the silver-haired vamp taunted as he dodged punches. "I thwarted all your soddin' plans!"  
  
"There's always another day, another apocalypse." Angelus replied staunchly, a devilish grin emerging onto his face. "You and your Slayer whore aren't going to be around to see it, more's the pity."  
  
Spike had been very careful in the fight so far, knowing well the ancient vampire codes which banned killing an elder. Somehow that archaic system made no provisions for older vampires dusting their childe. But that red tape was all bypassed if a challenge was issued, and Spike took Angelus at his word, beginning to fight in earnest. Even Dru sensed the change in atmosphere, cowering back against the wall and watching her two men spar with deadly fascination.  
  
Striking quickly, the younger vamp scored a hit on Angelus' nose, causing blood to immediately pour from it. Drusilla's gaze wavered between the two, uncertain whether the tantalizing darkness of blood was more alluring than the triumphant gleam in Spike's eyes as he surveyed the damage.  
  
"You asshole!" Angelus growled, wiping a furious hand across his face.  
  
"That's my name." Spike answered tersely, his voice full of meaningful disgust. "Don't wear it out."  
  
Buffy almost blushed at the implications of the statement, but did not because she had already had time to get used to the horrible idea. Not to mention Spike's vehement reaction against it. But it was becoming harder and harder to maintain focus on the room, her eyes swimming. She was sure that if the chains weren't still holding her upright, she would collapse to the floor, disoriented, and dizzy. Such movement would only aggravate her wounds, Buffy knew, and shuddered to think of what that would feel like since she was already struggling against retching when standing still.  
  
The deadly dance taking place in the room was still going on, its two participants choreographing an intricate set of moves which were just a blur to the Slayer's eyes. But then, by some twist of battle, Angelus was next to her, holding his strong hand to her throat. She choked on the tight grip, practically able to feel the bruises forming. She was near blacking out.  
  
"Back off, Spike," the brunette vampire warned, eyes full of sinister intent. "She's nothing to me now, but I have to wonder how thoroughly she's moved on."  
  
"Not as far as you'd think," the platinum blonde said viciously, urged on by the fading light in the Slayer's eyes.  
  
Lunging forward, he pulled a concealed stake from his duster and impaled Angelus' heart in one swift blow. His grandsire barely had time to stiffen before his familiar, harsh features dissolved into a cloud of dust. The instant the pressure of Angelus' hand was gone, Buffy drew in a deep breath, tenaciously clinging to life. All that mattered even in the aftermath of that important battle were those precious gasps of oxygen.  
  
"Buffy? Are you alright?" Spike asked softly, examining her pale, tortured face with piercing eyes. Her only answer was an indistinct mumble. "What's wrong? Spit it out, luv."  
  
She did as he had asked, opening her mouth to spew out the thick ashes, and he laughed shortly at the literal result of his request. Not to mention that she had gotten some of Angelus in her mouth- *that* was all too outrageous for words to describe. The Slayer smiled faintly, not quite able to understand the cause of Spike's amusement, but responding to his humor nonetheless. Reminded suddenly of her state, the vampire turned to find the key to the chains, only to see his other problem. Dru was still in the room, looking at him with dark, soulful eyes.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered, sounding more the lost child than he had ever heard before. "What have you done?"  
  
"Dru, love." he said with hesitation, unsure how to respond without getting another battle on his hands. And a fight he would do anything to avoid, for that matter. He looked down at his dusty boots, abashed.  
  
"A lovely bit of drama, that." Drusilla spoke again, but the timbre was different, no longer petulant.  
  
He looked up in surprise, watching the vampiress move sinuously towards him, walking a perfectly straight line despite the swaying of her hips. Her heavily lidded eyes looked up at him, and they were that blank white of the Gypsy witch. How the hell did she do this? He didn't want to ask. A wry grin spread across Dru's lips, and Spike started, the expression familiar. But he had to remind himself that, for the moment, this was no more than a puppet.  
  
"So glad our little armageddon took your fancy." Spike told her cynically.  
  
"No need to be rude, William," the witch scornfully reprimanded. "I'm not here to do you harm."  
  
"I'm tickled pink, really. Considering there's been enough harm done already," the vampire reminded her, an arm gesturing at the Slayer.  
  
"Just humor me a minute," she ordered. "I came to check up on your soul."  
  
"So I'm your new favorite patient?" he grumbled. "That's peachy, but I'm fine. Now leave."  
  
The Gypsy didn't take him at his word, moving forward and placing a hand over his bare chest. That only reminded him that his shirt was only temporary as a bandage for Buffy's neck, but he waited impatiently. This time her hand remained solid, but she closed Dru's eyes in concentration.  
  
"It seems you were open enough to human feeling that it adjusted very well," she enigmatically explained. "I was afraid it would conflict with your demon."  
  
"Like it did in Angel?" he asked her quizzically.  
  
"Yes, actually. The only reason I'm wasting so much energy to help you is because it isn't technically yours. Believe me, I could give you your own soul back in an instant. And should!" the Gypsy threatened.  
  
"And you won't because?" the tone of his voice ringing confidence.  
  
"Because my physical body is still resting in one piece. Because my bloodline still thrives," she said seriously, speaking of the averted apocalypse.  
  
"Yeah, you're welcome," the vampire gruffly responded, a smirk accompanying the statement. "Satisfied?"  
  
"Occasionally," she said primly, taking the question all too seriously.  
  
With a last arrogant twinkle of her blind eyes, the Gypsy was gone, and Dru sagged to the floor. Spike hurried over and managed to catch her before she fell completely. Slowly, the woman he had loved for so long managed to stand, her all-seeing eyes filled with pain. The instant he released her, she scrambled away in horror.  
  
"She showed me." Drusilla whimpered, her voice the only thing moving in the room. "Spike.I felt her coming, filling me up like a glass, and I fought to stay whole. I saw through myself, saw everything.your soul."  
  
"Drusilla, I." her childe started miserably, but she silenced him with a thin hand. The determined look in her eyes told him that this was one of the rare times when she was firmly entrenched in his world. The emotions swirling across her face were too real for her to not be lucid.  
  
"Would you like to know what else I saw when I looked at you?" the vampiress said, a tiny bitter laugh quenching the music of her speech. "That burning light you bear isn't licking at your insides to hurt you. It will make you happy, give you your heart's desire."  
  
"What else, pet?" Spike prompted her gently, knowing there was more from the dread in her eyes. But the dread wasn't for his future-it was for their past.  
  
"And that happiness wasn't for me," she concluded. "I had been so sure it was. But it is of a different fabric, woven with strands bright and dazzling.everything that I cannot be for you, Spike. I, of shadows and pain.I who you no longer love. Perhaps you don't believe me, but once I would have become that if you had wanted it. Once that brilliance was me, all the light my William needed."  
  
Overcome with remorse, Spike understood her feelings completely. He had been in the same position not too long ago, left behind to wonder what he had done wrong, whether his grandsire was giving Dru something he could not. And more painful than the dark wonderings he had gone through was the absolute knowledge the vampiress had opened herself to. He knew she spoke truthfully that he did not love her, but that still left room for regret. They had been happy once.  
  
Spike approached his companion with heavy steps. She allowed herself to be embraced, silently shaking as he mumbled words of apology into her ear. With a tiny cry, Drusilla wrenched herself away, caressing the side of his sculpted face with regret. She softly brushed her lips across his, her eyes closed to hide what she was thinking.  
  
"And I will be that burning flame again," she confided with a finality that shook him to the core.  
  
Whirling away with all the speed of the vampiric race, Dru leaped out the window. The shatter of the glass shook Spike into the realization it was after dawn. But he could hear her feet running farther away from the dark safety of the house, that steady pound like a heart beating, oblivious of the sun glaring down. The last sound to come from that pale throat he had so worshipped was a laugh, free from bloodlust, hunger, and even lunacy. That laugh which left him stunned and joyless even as it resonated with unadulterated bliss and understanding. Then it was over, the sound of disintegration audible to him, though it was no different than an old truck passing down a dirt road kicking up dust in its wake.  
  
He shuddered, unable to avoid the grisly pictures whipping through his head. Had she been a tower of flame, lazily pirouetting in circles? Had it taken long for her to die, consumed by fire and her perfect skin charred? His only consolation was that she had been above the pain, her willing sacrifice allowing her that much. But it did not make mourning any less inevitable. Drusilla's bravery had only brought her death, but of course she had known that. His mood changed quickly from sadness to self-loathing. He should have pulled her back from the window, he should have yanked her into his arms, and kissed her till she bruised, shown her she was just what he wanted, soul be damned. But he had been frozen, a useless champion to the vampiress he had killed for. A single tear went down his face, the only visible sign of thawing, but he wiped it away briskly.  
  
Drowning in his thoughts, he was shaken back to reality as the Slayer shifted uncomfortably in her chains. She was obviously recovering from having passed out, and the vampire hastily shoved his emotions to the background, knowing that he still had to think about the present. He couldn't save Dru, but Buffy was still hanging on by a thread. Spotting the keys on the floor where they had fallen after Angelus had been dusted (and with him his pockets), the bleached blonde vampire quickly unlocked the manacles and lowered the Slayer to the ground.  
  
"Promise me you'll burn it." Buffy murmured, on the verge of fainting again.  
  
"The Book?" he said with uncertainty, still thinking about other things that burned.  
  
"Yeah," her voice trailed off, eyes bleary and closing fast.  
  
No time like the present. In one long stride and one precise toss, her bidding was done and it was only a matter of minutes before the spellbook was a useless heap of ash. One of three in the room, the vampire abstractedly thought, but forced the idea out of his head. Instead, Spike tried to wonder at how easily destroyed the Book was, after all the trouble it had taken to get it open. As if knowing what he was thinking, Buffy spoke.  
  
"Once it was given blood and opened, it was no longer invulnerable," she explained, miraculously still conscious. "Giles told me any ordinary means of destruction would work, but fire would be the best since nothing recognizable would be left behind."  
  
Wounded anew by an analogy, Spike turned away from the Slayer with a curse. Swiftly he faced her again, only to find that the effort of talking had taken the last of her strength and she was limply sprawled on the floor. He knelt down, relieved to find that she still had a faint pulse, and lifted her up. Laying her down in an unoccupied bedroom, he wrapped real bandages around her neck. Perhaps after some rest he would be able to tend to the other wounds and she could get all the blood off her body.  
  
He left the room stealthily, chancing one last glance at Buffy lying peacefully on the bed. He envied her oblivion. It mattered little to the dreamer if she was dirtying clean sheets, her clothes were half torn-off and a vampire had just saved the world in her stead. 


	9. Question Everything

Chapter Eight: Question Everything  
  
For the second time, Buffy awoke to find herself in a lot of pain. She mentally assessed the situation, deciding that she felt even worse than the time before, but at least now she wasn't standing upright. That was a start, but she couldn't help a whimper of pain as she tried to roll over in the bed.  
  
"Bad move, Buffy," she berated herself out loud, having discovered that trying to move made the room spin madly.  
  
"You shouldn't be moving at all, Slayer." Spike warned, leaning against the doorframe. Unbeknownst to her, he had been sprawled out in the hallway with a book, waiting for any sign of life. "You've lost a lot of blood."  
  
"Yeah, I can sorta see I'm caked in it," she agreed, wryly indicating the mess she was. Then she started, seeming to remember the circumstances of her injuries. "What happened? I saw Angel."  
  
"Neither of them are a threat anymore," the vampire told her roughly, omitting details. However, his demeanor softened just a little when she winced at the tone of his voice. "Everyone's OK right now.except you, luv."  
  
"I think I'll get better." Buffy said decisively, trying to prop herself up on her elbows and failing miserably as a cramp shot through her arm. Spike came over and helped her sit up with her back against the headboard. She watched him carefully but could see nothing more than helpful indifference. "Thanks. For everything, the Book."  
  
He acknowledged her sputtered gratitude with a curt nod of the head, still adjusting to the fact that he would be alone after all this. His family was dead, and certainly he had no place in Buffy's life. The Slayer would move on, considering their alliance complete now that Angelus was dead. Whatever they had was mere lust, their working relationship more important than even that. She was the Slayer, out of his reach, that very brightness that Dru had spoken of. But by jumping into the sun in a moment of sentiment, she unintentionally had cemented Spike where he was, even if it was a form of hell. How could he move on and up with the memory of what she had given up for him?  
  
Buffy was confused at the vampire's rapid mood change. Gone completely were his teasing kisses and the dangerous light in his eyes as he protected her from Angelus. She had never taken time to think about what they would do after the fight was over. The solace they had found in each other's lips had apparently been to ease the pain of their significant others leaving them. She had thought that for a moment that night in the crypt, seeing him sit inches from her and wonder if he possibly felt the way she did about being left behind. Then the kiss just happened, but obviously he was through seeking comfort. His face was completely blank even as he solicitously saw to her wounds. Not even lust then, but why did she half- wish it was that and more?  
  
"Can I get cleaned up?" Buffy ventured when the uncomfortable silence had dragged on an eternity too long. He looked up from his examination of her arm.  
  
"Can you move without throwing up?" the vampire countered, eyeing her dubiously.  
  
"I want to try," she responded, hazel eyes determined. "In any case, I'm going to vomit if I don't get all this blood off."  
  
"Point." Spike grinned suddenly, the most animated he had been since she woke up. "Not that it would bother me, but."  
  
"Just go run me a bath!" Buffy interrupted imperiously, her lips quirking at the corners. "Please."  
  
With a unreadable smile, he left the room and she could hear water running nearby. Nearby was good, because even thinking was giving her a headache. She hoped the water was really hot, because the muscles that weren't injured were incredibly tense, but she couldn't risk stretching them without aggravating something else. Soon enough, Spike came back in the room and she ceased her examination of the wallpaper.  
  
"How do you want to do this?" he asked her, immediately distant. She couldn't blame him really, considering the task at hand. "Somehow I don't think you're up to being independent."  
  
"I could just leave this sorry remainder of an outfit on," she offered seriously. "I don't think it matters if it gets wet."  
  
"You aren't going to get clean that way," Spike pointed out, speaking to her as if she were a child. She supposed she should be grateful for that, because anything else would mean he was *trying* to get her naked. That didn't need to be brought up right now.  
  
"Then I'll try myself.if I end up puking from the effort, you can help," the Slayer decided, fixing the vampire with a stern look for good measure. "No looking if you can help it."  
  
"All modesty possible," the vampire assented with a teasing light in his tired blue eyes. "Don't think either of us are up to doing anything that exciting anyway."  
  
She glared at him for that comment, but he ignored it, recognizing that extended argument was not going to get them anywhere. Working together, they managed to ease the torn skirt and panties off her legs. Buffy got the bra off alone, the t-shirt long gone since Angelus had torn it away in his frenzy to rape her. She shuddered with that memory. Spike, believing that she had grown uncomfortable with the situation, averted his eyes even more than they already had been. Scooping her up in his arms, he moved her to the edge of the bed and allowed her to put her feet on the floor.  
  
They left the room as fast as Buffy could walk, although Spike carried most of her weight on the arm she clung to. Finally they got to the bathroom, and he lifted her up again. She was already shivering uncontrollably, so putting her feet on cold tile wouldn't help much. Knowing a small something about human body temperatures, he eased her into the bath, watching just her face to make sure she was adjusting to the boiling water.  
  
"Wow, that stings." Buffy commented, as her face gradually relaxed. The wounds would have been intolerable a few hours ago, but the sleep she had taken was more beneficial then it seemed. The stinging went away quickly and she was overtaken by lassitude. Her eyelids grew heavy and she let them close.  
  
Spike let her doze off for a minute, but then reminded her, "You should probably wash before it gets cold."  
  
"Yeah." Buffy eyed him as she began to bathe, somewhat disconcerted by his business-like manner. It was very unlike her fighting partner to be so.distant. She was sitting naked in front of him, and he had only managed one borderline comment that was more about why they *wouldn't* do anything. Not that she wanted that attention, but this was below par for him, so she felt inclined to ask, "What's up?"  
  
"Pardon?" the vampire said, having been lost in his own dark thoughts.  
  
"What's with the brooding 'I'm-miles-away' thing?" she elaborated, and he realized she was genuinely concerned. Why did that startle him so? "What happened?"  
  
"Maybe I'll tell you later." Spike sighed, realizing his attitude was preventing her from the conversation and semi-human contact she felt like she needed. So he easily returned to his old self and smirked at her, seeing wary relief fall over her features. "Why, feeling neglected?"  
  
Her only answer to that was an unladylike snort, and she gingerly reached for more soap. The movement finally drew his attention, his heavy gaze paradoxical in that it made her uncomfortable though he wasn't looking directly at her. She glared back at him meaningfully as she lathered her hands. He looked completely different than he had a minute ago, his serious countenance replaced by unruly cerulean eyes and a mischievous slant on his lips. Buffy didn't know whether to be disgusted or excited that he was wreaking havoc on her senses again. But as his perusal focused from something indistinct to the vicinity of her chest, she covered her breasts out of habit.  
  
"You made your point. Stop it," she ordered with hauteur and no small amount of anger. "I'm sorry I brought up your bad mood."  
  
"Well, in any case you're getting angry with me. Gives you a reason to want to get better.can't defend your honor until you can hit me," Spike snickered casually, nonetheless averting his eyes to a light fixture. "I knew your infernal stubbornness had to be good for something."  
  
"It's not helping me get all clean." Buffy grumbled, aware of the awkward situation this presented. Out of pure tenacity, she had managed to ignore the pain radiating through her body and get the front half scrubbed. But her arms couldn't bend in order to get her back, and she remembered the blood running down her spine there from a shallow cut Drusilla had given her.  
  
"Your back, eh?" the vampire realized with a quick assessment of the red- tinted water. She had gotten most of it off, but obviously couldn't get the rest. "I'll help if you want. No more staring."  
  
"Right now, I'm too tired to care," the Slayer confessed recklessly, gripping the side of the tub and painstakingly turning over. For the most part, he had been a gentleman, and fatigue had set in. Obviously she would need more time to regain strength.  
  
She spoke truly, for five minutes of scrubbing later, Spike had finished and she was sound asleep in the marble tub. Drawing a long terrycloth robe out from a convenient cabinet, he wrapped her up quickly and carried her back to her room. Soon enough he managed to find clean sheets (the previous owner had been neurotically organized) and get the Slayer in bed. Choosing to forget that she was dead to the world and that he could have looked his fill, Spike sauntered from the room to go hunting. He hadn't eaten for about a day or so, and his stomach was complaining loudly, claiming his attention as arrogantly as any Slayer.  
  
**********  
  
Later that night, the vampire lay in his own room, bloodlust sated after only one quick kill. He flipped the telly on, but could not select a program to watch. It was satellite television, meaning there were far too many choices for him to make. Finally, he settled on some violent action movie, watching with a bemused interest as the hero delivered a set of blows obviously choreographed. A truly exhilarating battle may look like your attacks had been planned ahead, but the fighters can feel the spontaneity of their actions. He had at least learned that over the years.  
  
Spike watched a wince pass over the rugged face of the actor on screen as the villain threatened his love interest, a terrified brunette. The dark- clad man had a knife held at her petite throat, and to her credit the bint didn't scream, but didn't offer any resistance either. Buffy would have had to be severely distracted or incapacitated by something else to even let the bastard get close enough to draw a blade.  
  
As if on cue, the Slayer in question began screaming like a madwoman, the sudden noise startling him. His immediate reaction had been to stare at the television to see if it was part of the show, but that chit was trying to reason with her captor. 'As if that ever worked!' he scoffed as he shut the program off and ran lightly down the hall to Buffy's room.  
  
"Slayer, pet, what is it?" he asked immediately when he rushed inside to see her huddled in a tangle of sheets, pale and clammy.  
  
"Bad dream, I think." Buffy said hoarsely, but her voice was shaky and unconvincing.  
  
"About what?" Spike questioned carefully, his voice quiet as he sat down on the bed.  
  
"Angel," she revealed with a little bit of the fright that had caused her to waken. She faltered but managed to continue the narrative. "He was killing me, and then it changed to me killing him, over and over. But throughout the whole thing, he kept laughing. I tried to get him to stop but the sound only got worse.hearing that was just."  
  
The Slayer trembled and stopped her description, having lost words to describe the nightmare that had bled into her sleep from real life. Unable to stand hearing the raw pain in her tone, the vampire eased closer and pulled her into his arms, offering nothing more than a soothing embrace. Her silent tears soaked the fabric of his shirt but he ignored that, rocking her back and forth.  
  
"You know, I haven't gotten one good night of sleep since you came back to town." Buffy told him, her rasping voice muffled by his shoulder.  
  
He didn't answer, knowing she wasn't speaking of him but of Angelus. What was he supposed to say to that? A witty innuendo was the last thing she needed, and he cursed inwardly that only those type of comments were coming to mind. He had never been one of tender words. Then she pulled back, leaving him worried. Now the regret and fear were gone from her watery eyes, replaced by some amount of pain and anger.  
  
"Talk to me for once!" she screamed again, rough around the edges. "Don't you ever let anyone close enough to understand you? Ever since the fight you haven't really been here."  
  
That was all the invitation he needed to lie down and pull her with him until they were spooning and comfortably settled into the mattress. She had a point-since the end of the fight he had been distant and uncommunicative because he had lost everything. Even if he hadn't been able to be around them for hate and jealousy, Dru and Angelus were the only family he had ever had. How was he going to explain that to Buffy? She would always have her friends to fall back on in hard times, and he'd never be part of that. But right now he'd try his best to make her believe everything was OK.it would be for her, at least.  
  
"This close enough, luv?" Spike crooned, his voice low and tonic to her panicked state. The feeling of his strong body resting protectively near her did more to calm her than even his voice, and so she relaxed as his arms circled her waist.  
  
"Cheater." Buffy murmured, but they both ignored the flirting factor of that comment. She continued with a concerned edge to her stern words. "Tell me exactly what happened in the fight."  
  
"I dusted Angelus," he said succinctly, dismissing his chivalry easily. But he couldn't be so direct with talking about Drusilla. "And Dru went outside, didn't come back."  
  
"You let her leave?" Buffy griped. He groaned, wishing she had gotten the hint before.  
  
"Went outside when the sun was out." Spike elaborated, thankful that she couldn't see the deep hurt in his eyes.  
  
Buffy lay there in the circle of his arms and was amazed he had been talking to her at all. And she had been upset that he hadn't been completely open! She could vividly hear the pain in his voice, and didn't try to look at him. Maybe he had moved on, but there had still been feelings there for Drusilla. She should know, because those same emotions had been there even when Angel had left for Los Angeles. And when he had turned evil again, they had overwhelmed her the more for the fact that she shouldn't be experiencing them.  
  
"I know it's stupid, but I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling the most absurd urge to cry for his sake.  
  
"It's not, and why are you sorry?" the vampire asked her gruffly. "You didn't have anything to do with it."  
  
"Being whiny when you were upset." Buffy explained abashedly. "I wasn't used to Moody-Spike, so I overreacted a little."  
  
"I figured you didn't really want me paying attention to you in the bath," chuckled Spike, tightening his grip on her body pointedly.  
  
"Yeah," the blonde replied absently, and the conversation trailed off the second it ventured into the territory of their feelings for each other.  
  
"Something's still bothering you, Slayer," the platinum-blonde insisted a few minutes of silence later. She sighed, wondering how he got his uncanny ability to be so perceptive. "Ask away."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me what Angelus had planned?" she wondered, grateful for the topic change. Still, she couldn't help her accusatory tone. "Were you trying to get me killed?"  
  
"Calm down!" Spike snapped right back, and she could sense that he was confused, but more angry that she was shoving the blame in his face. "You were standing right outside the window when the poof said it, so don't fault me!"  
  
"No, I wasn't." Buffy said with dawning comprehension. She wriggled out of his tight hold to look him in the eye, showing him both apology and embarrassment. "I, um. Fell down and left. I didn't want to get caught."  
  
"He didn't send anyone out," he disclosed, but noticed the sheepish blush creeping up her face. Her decision to run had nearly cost her everything and she knew it. "So you've been misinterpreting everything I said."  
  
"Angelus is out for your blood," she whispered, a echo of his words to her that had gone unnoticed but now made sense. She looked up swiftly at him. "I thought you were breaking our alliance by letting me get caught."  
  
"And this didn't help," the vampire admitted, tracing the scar on her neck with one finger. Goosebumps raised on her skin and he stopped.  
  
"I'm sorry I doubted you." Buffy said, honestly repentant. Even with him caring for her like an invalid, she had still not trusted him completely, but she did now.  
  
"Let's just forget the whole thing." Spike suggested reassuringly, his voice assigning no blame to anyone. "I should have been more direct and you should have stuck it out. Leave it there."  
  
"Sounds fine," the petite blonde agreed, snuggling back into the mattress, and closer to him, that secure force that she had somehow reached friendship with. It wouldn't hurt her chances of avoiding nightmares if he was there, and oddly the thought didn't bother her. "Stay with me?"  
  
"Mhm," was his only mumbled response to her proposition as he stretched out to full length and yawned widely .  
  
Curled around each other, he patiently waited as she fell asleep, her even breaths the only sound in the room. He let his eyes close only when Buffy was no longer awake.  
  
********** Buffy opened her eyes tiredly, swathed in dark blue sheets that made her feel like she was swimming in a cotton ocean. Stretching out to test the strength of her limbs, she found not only that movement was easier but that she was alone in the bed again. Evidently Spike had stayed for awhile because she could still smell a faint trace of cigarette smoke, leather, and something distinctly him.sort of like death warmed over, if you could give that a scent. Nonetheless it was comforting to some small part of her.  
  
Crawling out of bed, she explored the bureau dresser and was relieved to find several large t-shirts and even a pair of cotton shorts that looked like they would fit. Whoever had lived here before must have been an exercise buff. The thought that the individual whose hospitality she was currently enjoying was dead sobered her, but she was practical and knew she couldn't save everyone. It was a matter of stopping the murderers before they could kill more. That reminded her that Spike might still be feeding on humans, and she made a mental note to ask as she pulled the forest green shirt over her head.  
  
She found him down the hall in a blackened room with only the flickering lights of the television illuminating the sensible beige carpet. Of course the drapes weren't open, because it was day and he was sequestered by the sun. Padding cautiously around the door and into his line of vision, she was greeted with a smile.  
  
"Have a seat, luv." Spike offered, indicating the bed. Wordlessly, she did so, folding her legs beneath her.  
  
"What are you watching?" she asked quietly, observing the TV.  
  
"Not sure, just woke up myself," the vampire replied, eyeing the romantic comedy with a sneer. "I had it on last night after I left your room and must have dozed off."  
  
"Oh," was Buffy's only response, not willing to delve into why he hadn't stayed. Not that it should have mattered after she had fallen asleep! Spike cannily seemed to read the thoughts flitting across her face.  
  
"Sorry I had to slink off, but I was getting hungry," he explained quickly, his face growing stricken as he realized what he had just told her.  
  
"You're still killing." Buffy said matter-of-factly, her voice weary. Spurred on by her lack of emotion, the platinum-haired vampire continued.  
  
"Gotta kill to live, same as you, Slayer," he rationalized with wary blue eyes. "Didn't figure you were keen about the idea of me staying in Sunnydale much longer, so why change my diet?"  
  
"What if I let you stay?" the blonde woman proposed, for once not meeting his eyes.  
  
"Stay and do what, pet?" he questioned her flippantly, but her answer held a lot of weight. Just maybe he had somewhere to belong, a future at least for the span of her lifetime.  
  
"I don't know. Help my friends, maybe," the Slayer mumbled, unsure how to tell him *she* wanted him to stay. "Since you've taken a crime-fighting turn and all."  
  
"Speaking of that, shouldn't you be calling the witch or your mum?" Spike reminded her gently, blatantly changing the topic. "They're probably all worried about you, Buffy."  
  
"I don't want to tell them I'm here," she said testily, and the vehemence behind her words flattered him a little, but he didn't show it. Who knew what her motives were anyway?  
  
"At least tell them you're alright," the vampire insisted, pointing out the bedside phone. Acquiescing with a irritated flash of her eyes, Buffy dialed a number with sure fingers.  
  
"Mom? It's me," she greeted. A long silence ensued, in which time Joyce was likely talking her daughter's ear off. Finally Buffy managed to reply. "I'm fine, and alive, I promise. We stopped Angel, but I need a few days to rest."  
  
A long-suffering look came over the blonde's face and she glared at Spike for forcing her to make the call, but he just shrugged.  
  
"I can't tell you where I am, Mom." Buffy insisted. "I just need to be alone for a while, that's all. I'll call before I come home. Tell Giles and the gang, would you?"  
  
A few minutes later, she managed to hang up, without giving her mother any more details. Burying her head in her hands, Buffy sighed deeply, back into despondence.  
  
"Alone for a while?" Spike teased, getting her to look up and see his mock hurt. He was stunned by the lost look in her eyes, not expecting that kind of response.  
  
"I didn't mean it that way," the blonde Slayer explained, her voice broken. "Here I can feel the way I want to. When I go back to my life, my friends.then I'm not allowed to be scared or sad. I'm the Slayer, weakness isn't allowed."  
  
He let that statement stand where it was, knowing she meant that he allowed her to expose that uncertainty and fear.it wasn't so much that she wanted solitude but that he offered unconditional comfort. She scooted over to sprawl on top of the covers while the vampire, still under them, reached out and rubbed her back in slow circles. They stayed like that for a long time, Buffy watching the happy ending of the TV movie with eyes more cynical than they had a right to be.  
  
Long after the television station had switched to infomercials, causing them to shut it off, they still were lying awake, speaking of any topic that would come to mind. Both just poured out their pasts, the words warming the bed with truth and even new revelations. Nothing was off limits. He haltingly spoke of Drusilla, crushing a century of devotion into a little series of anecdotes. For her part, Buffy talked about her experiences as a Slayer, the confusion she had felt when she realized she loved Angel. This compromised her entire being-she had feelings for someone who was supposed to be her enemy.  
  
"But I realized eventually that it isn't the demon that defines Angel-he was something more than that. The soul gives him the chance to be something else." she explained, wryly finishing. "Xander still doesn't get that."  
  
"Seems you've told me something along those lines before, pet." Spike pointed out, remembering the argument they had had about *his* soul, and why he couldn't feel like Angel could. Had she already come to a conclusion about him then?  
  
"How Xander hates you too?" Buffy said, smiling up at him sweetly.  
  
Inwardly, she realized she had almost defined Spike with the same words she had given to Angel. But he couldn't know that, because he obviously was different. He might as well not have the soul, for all the freedom it allowed him.  
  
"Does he really?" the bleached blonde replied sarcastically, wondering if she was deliberately avoiding the topic. "But I was talking about your concept of a soul."  
  
"I take back everything I said that night," she informed him, confirming she did know what he was driving at. In her prideful way, she was apologizing for telling him he was incapable of emotion. Then she quirked an eyebrow at him. "Except that part where you have to stop eating humans."  
  
"Duly noted." Spike told her solemnly, just as hesitant as she was to discuss specifics of his ability to feel.with the way he was acting towards her right now, it could only lead to her getting the wrong idea and staking him where he lay.  
  
"Tell me about your scar," the blonde Slayer asked, tracing a finger along his eyebrow. He exhaled, sensing that their awkward moment had passed.  
  
"When I was younger.human younger," he started agreeably.  
  
********** The next night, the same thing happened. Buffy shuffled, almost ashamedly, into his room, looking to him like she didn't want to feel drawn there. Yet her discomfort went away rapidly when he didn't judge her, didn't force her to do anything. He had a strong suspicion that as she healed, she was beginning to see him as a bad habit, but the fact remained that she sought his companionship often.  
  
"Ambitious, aren't you?" he had mentioned that second time when she had settled down on the bed and showed no sign of returning to the other bedroom. She looked up rapidly, something akin to fear on her features, perhaps fear that he was beginning to place demands on her, but the tiny quirk of his lips reassured her he was joking.  
  
"Any objections?" she grinned back, showing that spark of life that she usually had hidden since their ordeal.  
  
Part of her healing process, it seemed, was restoring her emotional state as well as her body, and both seemed to be steadily recovering. He was getting there too, no longer brooding for hours about his actions and Dru's death. Emotional wrecks, the both of them.that was probably why they had such a strong connection. Helping each other through everything had accomplished that much.  
  
"Not if I get hungry," the vampire smirked, lazily baring his human teeth. Her face became a study in feigned horror.  
  
"Keep those fangs to yourself!" Buffy admonished, noticing how his shit- eating grin only got wider as she played along with his joke. "A steady diet of pig's blood is all you're getting from now on."  
  
"Is that so?" Spike challenged her, responding to her ultimatum admirably by catching and pinning her arms and moving slowly towards her neck, avoiding the side that he had cut.  
  
Buffy squirmed and tried to roll off the bed, but her attempts were half- hearted at best. A week ago she wouldn't have trusted Spike to even look cross-eyed at her without getting suspicious and putting a weapon at the ready. Now, it seemed, he would do no wrong. At least it had seemed that way.even before the unwanted soul he hadn't been sadistic enough to play with his victims this long. He was an hardened opportunist, and had not taken advantage of perfect chances.  
  
The times she was sleeping and sorely wounded would have been ideal for him to kill her, and for some reason he hadn't. Even if he had been in the mood for a fight, he could have taunted her into battling anyway.knowing how insulting he could be when he felt like it. But instead he had helped her recover. That had to mean something, but she couldn't figure out what.  
  
"Let me up.stop it!" the Slayer half-giggled, her words having no effect as he drew closer to her jugular, a teasing smile dancing over his lips. Candidly, she remarked, "Your eyes look better when they're blue."  
  
"Flattery will get you nowhere," he told her, the mischievous glow in said eyes showing that he had recognized a honest compliment.but still intended to 'bite' her neck.  
  
She was feverishly wondering exactly what he was going to do when he got there, but just as his mouth was millimeters away from her skin, her stomach growled noisily. Buffy flushed, feeling like a complete idiot even though hunger was natural.he should know that more than anyone. So why did it have to choose the worst time to make its grievances known?  
  
"When was the last time you ate, Buffy?" Spike was saying, having pulled back without letting her wrists go. His eyes were still laughing, but it wasn't at her so much as trying to get her to see the humor of the situation.  
  
"Not for awhile," the petite Slayer sheepishly admitted, realizing she didn't remember. "I never managed to find the kitchen. So maybe you could?"  
  
"If you insist," the bleached-blonde sighed dramatically, releasing her reluctantly from his grip and leading the way. Good thing he had happened to be in jeans.  
  
"Nice place," she mentioned as they walked through the carpeted hallway and it's antique decorating scheme. She was pleased to find that she didn't have to take a snail's pace when trying to walk. Everything had diminished to a dull ache, making movement somewhat less agonizing.  
  
"Posh, isn't it?" Spike agreed as they got to the kitchen, nervous at the prospect she would remember he had killed to get into the place. Happily, she didn't make any such observations, her mind distracted by the exploration of the pantry.  
  
"You should have made me breakfast," Buffy scolded mildly as she emerged with basic food supplies, happily munching on a handful of cereal. "I know you haven't had to cook for a century, but toast and OJ aren't *that* complicated to throw together."  
  
"See if you have that opinion when I accidentally burn the house down," the vampire retorted with an undignified snort.  
  
The thought of her ally rushing around the kitchen frantically trying to put out a electrical fire was rather amusing, and absurdly domestic.in other words, nothing he'd ever do. Somehow, she doubted this vampire would let himself become housetrained.  
  
"Fine, fine, let me starve," the blonde conceded, contradicting herself by sitting down at the table with the aforementioned toast and a bowl of instant oatmeal.  
  
"You can't get much skinnier!" Spike chuckled, his sparkling cerulean eyes unrepentant when she glared at his appraisal. Still, he tacked a hasty amendment on the end. "..which is good because if you did, you wouldn't be nearly as fetching."  
  
"Uh-huh." Buffy said sarcastically, raising her brow in disdain and the spoon to her mouth.  
  
"Are you going to finish that?" he asked, dismissing her bad mood with a glance at the crusts of her toast.  
  
Giving in with a small smile, she shoved the plate to his side of the table. Her appetite wasn't that large yet, and she didn't like the crusts. Her mother had always made her eat them as a little girl, claiming that they were full of nutrition. Bull.it was just the burned part of the bread. Or the most burnt part, in the case of toast. And it wasn't like she could resist those blue eyes. 


	10. The Pieces Fit

Alright, you all know the usual disclaimer stuff, so I'll spare it. This is the chapter where things get R (notice the title, hehe.) Anyway, I have finished the rest of the story, but it might be awhile before I get it up since I'm going out of town. Anyway, thanks for the reviews.  
  
Chapter Nine: The Pieces Fit  
  
Buffy groaned as the hot water in the shower streamed over a nasty bruise on her collarbone. She had been at the mansion about four days now, and still wasn't in full health. Slayer healing helped the exterior marks of torture fade away but was a bit slower in making the bone deep ache disappear. Of course that particular area of hurt had been better a few hours earlier, and the fresh pain she was dealing with was her fault. She had just woken up and felt absolutely useless. Cabin fever, maybe? She had felt like she would go crazy if she didn't hit something. Their delicate game of coexistence was no longer distraction enough. Maybe it was her sacred duty calling for a slay.  
  
Spike had raised a scarred eyebrow when she had sighed in frustration over the breakfast table. When she explained what was wrong, he didn't seem surprised at all.in fact, he grinned knowingly, obviously feeling the same thing. Sliding fluidly from his seat, he snatched her hand and yanked her out of the room, brooking no argument. Not that she had any, because it had led to them sparring for about an hour in the mansion's basement. Time flew by quickly as the pair concentrated on working out their need for violence. A perverse kind of relationship, maybe, but the kicks and punches seemed different when one wasn't fighting for their life. Then they were just fun. Buffy rarely got the opportunity to fight just for the hell of it. And especially not against someone who could hold their own so well.  
  
"Are you finished drowning yourself, Slayer?" he spoke, amused voice muffled by the door to the bathroom.  
  
Ha. He was waiting for her to finish in the shower so he could use it. It wasn't like this was the only place in the entire house where he could clean up, he just kicked her out to spite her, she knew it. Oh well, she had finished washing anyway, just basking in the warmth for a few minutes longer than necessary.  
  
"Just a minute!" the blonde hollered back, stepping out, putting on a robe and wrapping her hair in a clean towel. She opened the door for the vampire, ruefully eyeing the scrapes on her knuckles. Invariably she managed to hit a wall or some inanimate object every time she fought.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living." Spike quipped, smirking at her almost fondly. She looked up at him, noticing the black eye and dried blood on his lip. The wounds she had put there made him look cuter. But kinda. not in a little boy way.  
  
That thought made her let out a tiny little laugh and say without rancor, "I hope you're hurting as much as I am."  
  
"Got that right," he snickered, dark blue eyes smug. "Have to check if all my significant parts are intact."  
  
He didn't even wait for that thought to sink in before he closed the door with a smirk, completely missing the blush that lit her cheeks.  
  
"Thanks for sharing." Buffy muttered under her breath as she walked down the hall, away from a vampire who should not have been allowed to be so good-looking, evil, and understanding at the same time.  
  
********** After a quick shower, the vampire chuckled at his battle bruises, knowing they would heal rather rapidly. In any case, getting the chance to battle with the Slayer had been interesting, fast-paced, and a helluva lot of fun. The entire basement was a disaster area, having been filled with antiques before the pair had come down. Now it was full of broken furniture and shattered glass objects from bodies being thrown into them, and even from being thrown at bodies. As he walked back to his bedroom, he tried to decide whether he wanted to try cleaning up that mess.  
  
Looking at the clock to see that it was still late morning, he discarded the towel from around his waist and clambered under the sheets of his bed. He was getting tired, and the Slayer would realize daytime was when he slept. She might as well take advantage of the resting time since she was quite the night owl herself. But, just his luck, she didn't, appearing in a t-shirt that came down to mid-thigh.  
  
"Was everything in its place?" Buffy said shrewdly, leaning against the doorframe and completely at ease. "I'm sure you checked thoroughly."  
  
"Pardon?" he responded, disconcerted for a moment before he realized what she was referring to. With a cocky smirk, he regained his attitude. "Need to come see for yourself?"  
  
"I've got enough sore spots of my own, thank you," she primly declined, a mischievous sparkle in her hazel eyes. Here they were, flirting again.  
  
"Oh, have you now?" his interested voice resonated, a low rumble that did funny things to her insides, even though it should not have.  
  
Did this mean she was getting feelings for another vampire, despite all she had learned? Buffy didn't know how to react to this.she wasn't even sure what the extent of her feelings were, but the truth was she liked spending time with Spike. Letting go of all the pressures she usually placed herself under had been incredibly therapeutic. And the fact was they liked each other.at least, they seemed ready to. Why else would he have kept kissing her the night of the apocalypse? Why else were they baiting each other with sexual innuendoes?  
  
"Need to see for yourself?" she threw back at him, deciding to go all out if they were going to go into this kind of conversation.  
  
When he failed to answer, the emotions on his face many and unreadable, she moved onto the bed, sitting next to him. His azure eyes were steadily gazing at her, not flinching as she raised a tentative hand to touch the puffy underside of his eye. The vampire hissed a little when she put too much pressure on it, and she offered a smile of contrition, removing the touch. Lightly memorizing the feel of his uninjured cheekbones, she was amazed at the intricate structure of his facial features, sharp edges giving him a unique look of strength. She leaned in towards the right side and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  
  
"Buffy, I don't think we." Spike suggested, voice painfully slow to speak.  
  
"Sorry, I just thought that you wanted.I shouldn't have..sorry," the blonde whispered, realizing in a set of disjointed thoughts that she had been reading him wrong. He must talk to every female the same way.  
  
"No, it's not you," he tried to explain, not willing to define his feelings until he had them under control. "It's just, I know you'll regret it later. Slayers and vampires."  
  
"You didn't have any problems kissing me the night we fought Angelus," Buffy noted, watching him shift uncomfortably.  
  
"That was part of the ruse to get him to think I was playing on his team," the vampire clarified, but looked more on-the-verge-of-miserable than conniving.  
  
"So I was an act," she said flatly, showing no emotion on her face.  
  
"Well, yeah." Spike told her defensively, finally mastering his facial expression. "Had to play tormentor."  
  
"You could have done that by cutting me up." Buffy informed him, a tiny smile on her features. "You're becoming a terrible liar."  
  
"Thanks ever so much for your opinion," he retorted sourly, beginning to scoot off the bed to leave. But he was stopped by two things: the realization he had no clothes on, and what she said next.  
  
"And I didn't give you the chance to do it properly either," she said, speaking of her earlier closed mouth.  
  
So she leaned forward, catching and kissing him deeply. As he registered her lips touching his, her hands running through his platinum hair, it took a second of gratified surprise before he joined in. The kiss lasted for only a short time before she broke away gently. He was still in shock, having talked himself into believing she would have nothing to do with such a lowly creature as he.  
  
"Well," was all he could manage to say, his head still whirling.  
  
"Well?" Buffy smiled back.  
  
He just looked at her for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensations. He knew he should have skipped town instead of playing nurse to the Slayer. Instead of kissing her.but he couldn't help himself. Whatever else there was, there was trust between them.and a lust that was staring him right in the face, stronger than he had reckoned it to be.  
  
"You should take it back." Spike grinned, his arm snaking out and bringing her head back to his.  
  
The kiss sizzled through both their nerves, as potent as the first time in the cemetery. This time it lasted longer, the blonde only coming up for air as few times as she could without passing out. God knew how close she was to blacking out from sheer ecstasy anyway.the world around her had downsized to just the two of them and the sensations they wreaked on each other's bodies.  
  
"God, Buffy," the vampire mumbled, somehow finding the strength to pull himself away. He found himself faced with her smiling face, about to say something. "Let me guess, you've changed your mind?"  
  
At this accurate assessment, she just widened her satisfied grin. He conceded to brush his lips across hers briefly before tugging a blanket from under her and sliding off the bed. He wasn't quick enough to conceal his nudity, showing a glimpse of trim backside before he managed to wrap the sheet around himself.  
  
"Nice view," she chuckled, surprised to see him blush.  
  
Spike, modest? Unheard of! Not that he had something to hide.clothing on him was like covering a work of art. She shook herself mentally.it was bad enough she had thought that, but at least she hadn't said it aloud. But he rapidly got over his embarrassment and padded confidently from the room, throwing her a scorching look over his shoulder. She shivered at that look- it was like he was undressing her in a matter of milliseconds.  
  
As he moved elsewhere in the house to find clothes and she waited in bed, staring at the ceiling, their thoughts were near identical. The other saw them as just a lust object, nothing to be respected or seen for who they really were. Yet they were both near desperate to act on the lust that they felt, acting like lovers already. How could there not be something else behind this, considering their colorful history? And then again, upon considering said history, maybe not. Life was so uncertain. Maybe the two of them were reaching out for anything solid they could hold onto.  
  
The mansion had become their limbo, a world apart from everything and everyone else. What would happen when she was obligated to return? How did the confusing comfort they had discovered here fit into real life? But she was sure of one thing, she wanted.  
  
"Hey there," a now-clothed Spike interrupted the reverie, bearing a bowl in his hands and saying with a jaunty grin. "Milk and cereal.no fire involved."  
  
"I'll bet you poisoned it." Buffy made a face, but knew that the gesture was unnecessary, and therefore sweet. He had actually remembered a trivial part of a conversation.he was just full of surprises this morning.  
  
"Won't know until you choke," he joked back, eyes shimmering with humor.  
  
She hazarded a glance at the cereal, identifying exactly what it was. "You *are* trying to kill me.this stuff is nothing but pure sugar!"  
  
"Can't pick your poison, luv," the vampire said, stubbornly extending the bowl out for her to take.  
  
*If he only knew what poison I really wanted..*  
  
"What if I tell you just where to put your cereal." she began, huffily taking the food when he glared at her. Shoving a couple bites in her mouth, she put it aside. "There."  
  
"You sure you don't want more?" Spike asked with a miniature grin.  
  
It was the kind of smile that said he already knew the answer, but was mentioning it just to get on her nerves. And he was so good at doing that. But for some reason, it wasn't just her nerves that were getting disturbed by this vamp.  
  
"No more." Buffy affirmed irritably, before deciding to turn the tables. Blatantly moving her eyes over his chest to his face, she said in a sultry voice. "I can think of better things to do."  
  
"Uh-huh," he advanced towards her, his fascinating cobalt eyes showing some captivation of their own. She shivered as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "So unless you're in the mood for a game of chess, I suppose I shouldn't have bothered covering up."  
  
"No.I mean, if you're more comfortable." She tripped over her words, cursing herself for losing her cool. She had started this, and the instant he joined in, her confident exterior fell away. Now he had proof she was just a little girl.all her experience to his was nothing. It had been a stupid idea to try seduction like this.  
  
"Relax." Spike told her, blue eyes darting from her worried face to the white-knuckled fists she held on the bedspread. Her proposition had caught him off guard, though that didn't mean he wasn't aching for it. Still, she was nervous about something. "You don't need to do this.if you don't want."  
  
"I want," she said with a deep breath, steadying herself to look the vampire in the eye. Then her face colored slightly, as she mentioned rather reasonably. "Unless you don't."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, pet," his voice came back, muffled by the t-shirt as he pulled it over his head.  
  
"Definite improvement." Buffy said saucily, letting her eyes roam over his muscular chest.  
  
Her self-esteem was restored by the confirmation that he was willing.and able, as evidenced by a fleeting glance down south. A bewitching smile flit across her lips, and she reached down, beginning to tug at the hem of her own shirt. His hand shot out and grabbed her own, forcing it to lie still on her thigh.  
  
"Not yet," the platinum-blonde directed, his burning eyes and rakish smile holding her in a unique thrall. But the intense sensation was reciprocal.Buffy could see that in his gaze. "Just be patient, luv. We have time."  
  
"True enough," she breathed, watching their clasped hands. Uncertain of what else to do, she shifted to put her weight on her elbows, the muscles in her leg shifting as she did so.  
  
Looking up swiftly when he took in a breath, the blonde woman was satisfied to see the evident desire in his eyes. Then his hand moved and it was her turn to gasp. Numbed by the sight of his calloused palm sliding up her tanned leg, Buffy could only shiver, loath to stop him.  
  
"Heightens the anticipation, doesn't it?" Spike asked her under his breath, leisurely continuing to trace a line up towards the apex of her legs.  
  
"You're talking too much," she answered in a desperate whisper, needing more contact that his tantalizing touch was not providing.  
  
"Still expecting you snap out of it, call me a pig, and sock me a good one on the jaw."  
  
The only thing she did next was lunge forward and capture his lips, tongue darting in to banish any further words. She need not have worried; the vanilla scent and silky texture of her hair had rendered him beyond speech. They allowed their ruthless mouths to clash in a wave of intoxicating arousal. Somehow before the two of them drowned, he pulled away, his eyes gleaming with an instinctual impatience.  
  
Responding in kind, she pulled him onto the bed, smiling mysteriously as he kneeled, still towering over her. That dark blue gaze was forcefully compelling as he lowered his torso to hers. She drew a breath, adjusting to the weight of his body and expecting that pale mouth to kiss her yet again. It was a complete surprise when the lips grazed her neck instead and continued a seductive path down.  
  
When the vampire stopped at her breast and latched on, the blonde woman offered no protest, trying to respire evenly.but her heavily set eyelids showed she was far from relaxed. He was inflicting all kinds of torment, rather successful because the thin cotton of her t-shirt did little to make her not notice the ministrations. The action was ungodly intimate, made even more so when his hands entered the fray, caressing her sides and hips. She twisted under his skillful touch, this kind of gratification a gift and a curse all at once.  
  
She finally got the presence of mind to reciprocate, bringing her arms between their bodies to unzip his jeans. Spike, for a split second, stopped what he was doing but immediately recovered, eliciting a gasp from her with a well-placed hand. Supposing this was his assent to have her 'wicked way', she moved away from the front of his pants teasingly slow, letting him consider just what she might have done. She snaked her hands around the curve of his back and tugged the denim down with surety, aiding the fabric down to his knees until he broke away and kicked them eagerly onto the floor. That was all the time it took for her to discard the t-shirt as well.  
  
They stopped for a moment, he taking in the luxurious curves of her body and she the many powerful, sleek lines of his. Then she drew him closer, feeling that arrogant male beauty, urging him wordlessly to end foreplay. Their senses truthfully had been heightened ever since she had woken up from the battle, and arousal was no hard thing to achieve. Some small part of him worried he would hurt her, worried she hadn't healed enough yet. But when she wrapped her legs around his lean hips, he was inside her without any gentleness whatsoever, and as such was completely, irreversibly lost. Time and the rest of the world stopped, the pair's motions seeming to be the only ones that could sustain life.  
  
And now his lips were against Buffy's throat, tasting, kissing, tiny bites along her veins. She could feel her thundering pulse through the light touches, and still he slid in and out, his rhythm joining with her racing heartbeat and ragged breaths, three merging into one and burning up the length of her body. Their muscles were filled with tension, something like adrenaline driving them on towards sated oblivion.  
  
As Spike increased his rough tempo, some ageless force grew closer to them, spiraling up in waves of dizzying heat from deep within. They strained together, anticipating, finally reaching it, just within their grasp. Instinctively they knew it came from inside their bodies, and so dug further into each other, deeper and deeper. The power was volatile, wild, and for a split second of climax, they would touch it.  
  
And then, innately knowing when the finish was most near, her inner muscles constricted and he delivered a final stroke. It was as if they shattered under the weight of orgasm, feeling that physical crescendo building and falling away, searing their souls as it went. They collapsed atop each other, unable to move until strength had returned to their bodies.  
  
He was the first to move, pulling himself out from where he had been buried. He had found it a much sweeter place than the grave, though both were darkly mysterious, enticing. They sprawled on the bed, slick with sweat, looking absently at the ceiling. After about five minutes of weary aftermath, Buffy curved her arms around his neck, drawing their two bodies closer. Limbs entwined as if they were sharing strength, the exhausted couple drifted into dreamless sleep, absurdly comfortable in their nudity.  
  
********** Buffy awoke slowly, still half convinced she was dreaming.but she knew the light touch feathering over her spine was just as nice, and wonderfully real. She groaned softly as she eased into full wakefulness, the noise muffled by the fact she was laying on her belly and in several pillows. A miracle she had not suffocated during the night.  
  
"Morning, luv," a voice purred at the nape of her neck. The light brush of fingertips stopped and instead lips played over her skin, extracting another moan from the woman as she savored the tickling sensation. She had the right to luxuriate in this-waking up beside a partner was new.  
  
"It's not fair." Buffy muttered drowsily, twisting her face around to look at his devilish grin. "You aren't even tired. Insatiable is what you are."  
  
"Can you blame me?" Spike countered softly with an admiring smile. These words were rewarded by her hand twining around to find his.  
  
"I'd say the same for you, but," she yawned widely, secretly pleased with his compliment. "Too sleepy to prove it."  
  
"Guess I'll have to wait then," the vampire sighed with feigned melancholy, which rapidly changed into an insinuative smirk.  
  
"I'll learn the secret of being a morning person someday," the Slayer grumbled, finally rolling over so she could see him. All of him.  
  
It was an eyeful, and that wasn't just talking about his physical presence. All at once she was seeing everything about this man who had once been a monster, and an enemy even before that. Now she could not help but wonder why the whole picture had never been there before. Quick wits and experience made him an ally, a trustworthy, funny companion to those who could gain his trust. And now his toned body and unexpected kindnesses filled out the portrait of a perfect lover. But it was the tenderness and esteem in those blue eyes that completed him, as he was this moment in time.  
  
Spike watched her perusal through eyelids as heavy as the thick wooden coffin he should have been residing in. Her thoughts were hidden to him, but whatever was on her face was not of animosity, more as if she had achieved some revelation. Certainly the night before he had, not only with Buffy, but also with himself. For the last weeks he had ignored the soul, its sporadic urgings of remorse put out of mind. But now it seemed part of him, as if by reaching deep to understand the girl, he had managed to quell the part of him that was unhappy with what he had become--William, as it were. The peace that had only come with the kill was now accessible without any effort. Or was that thanks to the golden-haired woman in his arms? No; they were one and the same.  
  
There was assurance he was not like Angel, old kills not coming back to haunt him, plague his dreams. Buffy knew that, but pondered how exactly he had changed in their most recent encounter. He didn't seem willing to change his ways that drastically-like he had said, he had to eat to live. So maybe they weren't heading for a cozy tomb with a view.yet things were obviously different. Just how much were they willing to invest in whatever this relationship had become? And then she realized with a shock: those qualities, his qualities, which she had mused upon balanced hers perfectly. It was like she could only feel, could actually *live* when she was around him. Love.  
  
The look in her hazel eyes intensified, and heat flooded his face. The vampire almost fidgeted under the weight of that gaze, nervously tousling his hair more than it already was. The Slayer bit her lower lip apprehensively, noticing his discomfort. Usually the predator, it was peculiar that her newfound lover was hesitant. That bothered her. It was as if he was holding back because of some irrational fear caused by her. Spike was waiting for the punchline of a colossal joke that ended dustily.  
  
"Smile for me?" she asked wistfully, breaking their extended silence in a statement she hoped would reassure him she wasn't harboring second thoughts.  
  
The puzzled half-smile he relinquished was not what she was looking for. Dissatisfied, she kissed him, a bold play that nonetheless employed no force. Gently setting electricity loose to run through their bodies, Buffy gradually disentangled herself from his questing lips. Looking at his face, she saw that her efforts to convey emotion had been successful. This time the smile from her dream was warming his azure eyes, nearly making his face angelic.  
  
"I think I." Buffy faltered, then gathered her confidence, "I love you."  
  
He gaped at her, not sure whether to be thrilled or disbelieving, settling for a mix of both. This was an unexpected twist that he had, admittedly, hoped for. And now the reality of it took awhile to sink in, coupled with the fact he didn't know what to say. A mere 'I love you too' seemed so trite, not to mention awkward. He was certain those words were true, but was it the kind of love she expected?  
  
"You look like you're expecting a hidden camera crew to come out of the walls," she quipped as she settled herself under the sheets. Oddly, she understood his need to think but was unable to bear silence. So back they fell into irreverent conversation. "And reveal I'm really an 80-year-old guy."  
  
"I hope I didn't just bang a man," Spike commented, sliding a hand under the bedsheets just to make sure. She tried not to cry out as he punctuated his drawling words. "That'd be a rotten trick."  
  
"I meant it, you know." Buffy said timidly as she stopped his hand, not sure if he was avoiding the subject on purpose. "About."  
  
"I know you did," the platinum-blonde cut her off, his eyes gleaming with a wealth of emotion. "I've felt the same way for awhile, just didn't think you'd take that very well."  
  
"Up until that kiss in the crypt, probably not," she honestly admitted, "And even after, I would have thought you weren't capable of love."  
  
"That was then. Do you believe me now?" the vampire questioned carefully, knowing he shouldn't put so much weight on that one question.but it was bloody important.  
  
"Yes," the Slayer breathed, already enraptured by the happiness in his eyes. Was that same look in hers? It certainly felt that way.  
  
Just then doubt stole into his face.  
  
"No more of this 'you-have-a-soul' rot." Spike demanded with insecurity written all over him. "I'll love all of you, whether you do the same, but."  
  
"Don't worry," she interrupted, sitting up to grab his bare shoulders. "You've proven yourself even before the soul.even if it left right now."  
  
That in some ways appeased him, but because she didn't finish the thought, he decided to test her. She needed to be sure of what she was getting into.  
  
Vamping out with a hungry smile, the bleached blonde remarked. "Well, that's convenient then."  
  
Immediately, she jumped off the bed, mind reacting instinctively to the apparent danger. He was touched that she didn't try to kill him right away- that was a truer test than words would offer. Not that she could attack successfully right now, being both without weapons and stark naked.  
  
"I should have known no man is capable of pillow talk without having ulterior motives." Buffy said with some amount of sadness but more hurt that this was happening to her again after Angelus. Both tones wrenched his unbeating heart.  
  
Why had he not realized a violent trial like this would freak her out?. Instantly contrite, he returned to a human visage. The last thing he wanted her to think was that this was just about sex and a meal.it was about *her*. At least, it was to the rational side of him. The way she smiled when she was happy, even that serious brooding look when she was trying to think.which looked worlds better on her than it had on his grandsire. Beauty was just an added bonus to match her sharp tongue and unique brand of intelligence. How she always managed to know what to do even if it destroyed her.such strength was alluring.  
  
And now she was watching him warily, wounded by the display he had put on and obviously not sure what to make of his motive for sleeping with her.  
  
"Chatting afterwards is a rarity amongst the male of the species," he informed her with no trace of savagery in his face, merely an amused expression. "I'm more than happy to oblige, I'm just used to the bird preferring to go at it again."  
  
That last was accompanied by a wicked grin, that one that melted her heart and other body parts. She finally realized that this had been some peculiar test of his. From the satisfied body language he was putting off, almost as noticeable as the 'See, I'm harmless' vibe, she was fairly certain she had passed. Still, she hadn't a clue why he had gone off on that tangent.  
  
"I guess we need to finish talking about my rash declaration." Buffy said slowly, but did not move an inch from where she stood.  
  
"Come here then." Spike coaxed her, leaning patiently on the bed and looking directly at her face.  
  
That itself convinced her he was sincere-if he was in this for the sex , wouldn't he be staring at her exposed body? It was all too much to think about.  
  
The sheets he lay under rippled as he brought his knees to his chin, adding whimsically, "Hey, I don't bite."  
  
"Very funny." Buffy said caustically, nonetheless moving back to join him under the covers. His relieved smile dissipated as she hit him square in the chest to show her appreciation.  
  
He rapidly reacted by flipping her over with a twist of the hips. Before she had time to gasp or try to get out from underneath him, he had grinded her deep into the mattress and fluffy pillows.  
  
"Pillow talk, huh?" he reiterated devilishly, the weight of his body centered on his pelvis.  
  
"It's not that I don't appreciate your other side," the Slayer managed to say as it rendered her breathless, "but I have to know if you really did lose the soul when we."  
  
"I shouldn't have reminded you of what happened with Angelus," he said suddenly as he slid off her, obviously upset by his error. "I'm almost as much of an idiot as he was."  
  
Stricken by *his* distress, Buffy let the comment about Angel wash over her unchallenged. What mattered right now was erasing the shame from her love's face.  
  
"You did that for a reason, I know," she said shrewdly, rubbing the side of his face with a manicured hand. "I assume to emphasize your badness?"  
  
"Yeah," the vampire confirmed softly, looking into her face worriedly. "I need you to understand that the soul isn't me.maybe one day I won't listen to it, go and kill."  
  
"Do you think that's all that matters to me? I can handle that part of you, Spike. What scares me is you'll get too carried away with brooding over the soul and somehow decide *I'm* too good for you.your emotions are a much more uncertain thing right now, and we're all alone in life, and can't we just forget about consequences?"  
  
In response to her ardent words, he enfolded her in his arms, feeling incredibly blessed that she felt the way she did. He realized she was tearing up a little when he detected dampness on his shoulder. Moving her face away from the shelter of his body, the vampire kissed the exquisite but needless tears away. Placing a final kiss on her lips, he pulled back and looked at her earnestly.  
  
"You can just be my soul then, love." Spike whispered against her mouth before claiming it yet again.  
  
"Agreed." Buffy murmured, smiling at his handsome face, made even more so by the contented air of their bedroom. For once she could tell the difference between his 'luv' and 'love'-that was somewhat handy.  
  
"And if that soul gets lost," he concluded, speaking between drawing her lips closer and tempting their tongues to battle. "I'll know who to blame, won't I?"  
  
She just snuggled close to him, a tiny secretive smile on her lips at the sudden thought of how her friends and mother would react to their newly forged relationship.  
  
"Worst thing about this job," the Slayer sighed wretchedly. "Everyone always blames me."  
  
He flashed her a knowing, purely male smirk as she finished talking. She flushed at the wicked look in his eyes, but was intrigued as well. This was a man who knew what he was doing, whether in battle or bed.and damn, was he good at both.  
  
"You want to know what else is your fault?" he asked as she wriggled against to him to get comfortable. She raised a questioning brow, and so he guided her hand to a certain thing that was all of her doing.  
  
"Spike." she breathed huskily, and that was his undoing.  
  
They fell deeper into each other, or maybe they had been falling all along. 


	11. ConsequencesEpilogue

I officially say: These characters are not my legal property, the plot is of my own sinister devising though. So Joss, hold off your evil legions of doom, I am but a humble writer who composes too much for her own good.  
  
Last chapter, everybody! Hope you enjoyed the ride.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Ten: Consequences  
  
*****  
  
"So, what do you think?" Buffy asked her lover with a distracted frown. "The black or the red top?"  
  
"My two favorite colors? That's not a fair choice, pet." Spike answered from his reclining position on the bed in her apartment. Eyeing her, as she was clad only in a bathtowel which she had wrapped around her torso to fall halfway down her thighs, he suggested. "Why not wear the towel?"  
  
She looked at him impatiently, exasperated that he was being so difficult in matters of fashion. However, that faded when she noticed the level of interest in his eyes caused by her modeling. Or it could be the fact that she was only wearing the aforementioned towel. Hmm.  
  
Taking advantage of the situation, she pursed her lips and turned around to face the mirror. As if making a decision on how the clothing looked in motion, she held it up speculatively, twisting her body in various positions. This caused the towel to shift, alternatively showing more leg or cleavage.  
  
"Black then," he coughed, his reliable jeans painfully tight. Standing hastily, he moved up behind the Slayer. "I'm going outside to have a quick smoke."  
  
She made a face, but let it stand-there was plenty of time to break him of the habit.  
  
"That's fine, I had to shower before we go out to the Bronze anyway," the blonde woman smirked, knowing full well what she had done. Her voice was light and teasing as she offered up double meanings-- "Sure you don't want to come?"  
  
"Don't get me started," the vampire mumbled as he hastily stole a kiss. "Then you won't be ready to leave on time.have to surprise your friends with your return to life and all."  
  
"There is that." Buffy gasped as they hungrily attacked each other with kisses. She finally relinquished her grip on his neck and let him step away.  
  
"I'll wait outside, maybe look around the kitchen." Spike suggested, eyes satisfied and somehow still needy. She wanted to keep touching him too, but he had a point-once they started it either took a very long time or a lot of effort to move on to other matters.  
  
"Don't damage anything," the petite blonde called after him in a deceptively innocent voice as the bedroom door shut behind him. She started taking her hair down from the ponytail as he chuckled in response.  
  
********** Carefully drying one last damp wave of hair, the Slayer surveyed her appearance with satisfaction. She had gone with Spike's choice of shirt, donning a black tank top with a glittery dragonfly embroidered near the shoulder. Giving herself a practice smile, she shut off the hair dryer and was able to hear that something was not right in the apartment.  
  
"Hold off, dammit!" Spike was yelling, the sound accompanied by a loud crash.  
  
Buffy winced even as she opened the door from the bedroom, hoping nothing had been broken.  
  
"What I want to know is why your car was parked out front." Xander snapped back, looming over the vampire. Although Spike was on a heap on the floor, he still looked more imposing. "Just thought you could waltz into Buffy's place?"  
  
"First rule, I have to be invited in," her ally growled, rising to his feet and swiping Xander's legs out from under him. Quickly, but rather ungracefully, the man managed to get up.  
  
"So who would be stupid enough to do that?" Willow contributed, drawing Buffy out of her shocked stillness. Was everyone involved in this interrogation?  
  
"Me," the petite Slayer stated, walking into the living room. All eyes were on her, one pair relieved and the other two stunned.  
  
"Buffy!" the brunette carpenter cried out, wheeling around to see her more closely. "We saw his car outside and were worried something had happened to you."  
  
"I'm fine, guys," she smiled, holding her arms out peacefully.  
  
The platinum-haired vamp remained aloof from the cliché of a reunion scene. Willow rushed forward and gave her a hug, Xander following suit more slowly. Buffy looked at her friend, startled to see a vivid bruise forming on his face.  
  
"Spike!" she chided, her voice grown harsh and chilly.  
  
"Defending myself." Spike sullenly told her, pointing at Xander furiously. "You know I could have done worse-what would he have done to me if I hadn't fended him off?"  
  
"I like my apartment right now." Buffy rounded on her friends, eyes flashing with anger. "Without Spike-dust floating around."  
  
There was a moment of silence as they registered that she had taken the evil vampire's side, before Xander managed to string a sentence together.  
  
"So, we're just supposed to accept the fact that you're harboring our enemy?"  
  
"Yes," she flatly responded, managing to not look at the self-satisfied, told-you-so posture her lover was putting off.  
  
"Why, Buffy?" Willow asked almost sadly. "You've been acting really different, and we care about you. Just tell us what is going on."  
  
She sighed, and began to talk: "Spike has a soul now,"  
  
"Not the same deal as Angel though. I'm my own man." Spike interjected quickly, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Even though it technically is his soul?" Buffy teased him with a false smile. He just smirked and gestured for her to continue. "I've seen him change, and fight to save the world. I'd be dead if he hadn't intervened! You'll just have to get used to him being around."  
  
At this her explanation stopped, and she watched their reactions. Her friends looked pensive, not quite sure if their friend was in her right mind. She had certainly sounded emphatic about his role in fending off apocalypse. And Spike? Spike on the other hand was looking at her pointedly, obviously wondering why she wasn't admitting they were in a relationship. Maybe in fairy tales the moment of truth came when the couple announced their love for each other, but in the real world the opinions of the friends and family seemed more important. Lucky for Spike he had none. Her cheeks colored, and she glanced at the ground, that action speaking worlds of hesitancy.  
  
"Excuse us," the vampire brusquely stated, catching her arm and dragging her back into the bedroom. The door shut with a ominous bang.  
  
"What?" she cried out, knowing why he was upset, yet not wanting to argue this soon into their time together. This was inevitable, she realized.  
  
"This isn't going to work if you can't tell them the truth," he informed her, agitated blue eyes trying to make her understand. "How can you expect me to sneak around and pretend we aren't what we are?"  
  
"You have to give them time to adjust or you'll get conveniently staked!" Buffy argued weakly, but recognized her cowardice. "See how much sneaking around you can do when you're dust!"  
  
"This is their idea of protecting you from unhealthy influences?"  
  
"They just worry that I don't make good decisions," the blonde woman explained, then let out a short bark of ironic laughter. "If I didn't they wouldn't be here now."  
  
"Just let them deal with the fact that you know what you're doing." Spike advised, wondering if she *was* sure of this relationship.  
  
"I wish I could, Spike. But I know them, they won't take the whole dose of reality at once!" the Slayer sighed, burying her head in her hands. "At least not without nasty consequences."  
  
Reaching out to her to bring her up from her slumped position, he let all that he felt show in his eyes, and was rewarded by the returned glow of love in her face. Silently, he forced her to believe that she shouldn't worry about them, that it would work out in the end of they let it work. Showed her that he could be patient as long as there was an end to that particular tunnel.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, leaning against his chest. "This won't last forever, I promise."  
  
"I know.we bloody can't keep our hands off each other. Don't you think they'll notice how we act?" he responded sensually, placing his hands on her belly. "Or are you cutting me off there too?"  
  
"That doesn't even deserve an answer." Buffy grinned, catching his lips with heat.  
  
Five minutes later, they were still miraculously clothed but rather mussed from their make-out session. The Slayer had taken full advantage of her strength to grind Spike into the wall, their bodies touching at all possible points. Willow approached the door from the other side, noticing the conspicuous lack of any voices. What was curious was the occasional thud coming from the room. Were they physically fighting then?  
  
The witch chanced a knock. "If you two are done arguing, we should leave for the Bronze."  
  
Inside, the couple looked at each other guiltily, realizing how withdrawn from the world they had been. Wiping off mouths and straightening clothes, they hastily opened the door. Willow stared at Buffy knowingly, one brow raised with an unsaid question. With a blush, Buffy realized her friend had heard something a bit too unusual.  
  
"Later." she mouthed at her best friend, leaving the room with her face handsomely red.  
  
Dubiously, Willow shrugged and led the way to her car, calling over her shoulder "I assume Spike can ride with us."  
  
Xander's mouth dropped open for a moment but he decided silence was the better course to follow right now and stepped into the hallway to keep up with Willow's strides. Buffy locked her door and gave the vampire a rueful glance. She squeezed his hand briefly and beckoned him to follow the Scoobies to the waiting elevator. The atmosphere was tense, but all parties tried their best to ignore it.  
  
********** By the time the group got to the Bronze, Spike was itching for a smoke. For once he didn't need one as a casual way of showing his bad persona-he needed the nicotine in his system to distract him from the pure hostility surrounding him. It was obvious he was not wanted at the same table, let alone in the same *building* as their precious Slayer. To be fair to Buffy, her façade of disdain towards him was not terribly convincing, mostly because he knew the truth her friends did not. Still, that didn't make the attitude or atmosphere any less uncomfortable.  
  
"Spike?" she was asking him, her hazel eyes and blonde hair striking under the flashing lights of the club.  
  
"What?" he responded irritably, his features exactly what her friends expected them to be-cold with a touch of anger. The look of an immoral killer.  
  
She looked surprised for a second, as if she was trying to puzzle out what his problem was. 'Where to start?' he thought, making a mental list. He had to sit on the other side of the soddin' table from her because Xander and Willow were afraid of what they didn't yet understand. He needed a cigarette and a few drinks because they were the only things that would help him pretend he was welcome here. He was irked that she was being standoffish, especially that she was treating him like that while being so damn beautiful.  
  
Maybe he was going back on his earlier promise to wait while she sorted other things out, but being so close, knowing he could touch her, but wasn't allowed to? That was not the kind of thing he had patience for.  
  
"What's your problem?" she questioned again, face telling him she had an inkling of what was bothering him, but that he needed to stop acting so pissy.  
  
When his only answer was a roll of the eyes, Buffy glared at him. He ignored it, nonchalantly slumping back into his chair and looking around the club with detached interest. She delivered a brutal kick under the table, her heeled shoes ensuring that he would have a bruised shin in the morning. He didn't flinch in pain, but she had regained his attention and the expression in those cobalt eyes brought heat to her face.  
  
He had turned the attack into something flirtatious by merely turning his gaze back and letting certain thoughts become plain on his face. She hoped her friends were oblivious to the vibes, though they had uncannily insisted on separating the pair at the table. Buffy was infuriated by his behavior, and wished she could tell him to stop being so childish.  
  
A few problems though-her friends would then notice what was going on, and Spike was not exactly acting childish. Not to mention she didn't really want to make that promise go away. She couldn't remember having met someone whose objectives were so obvious in his expression, and that lingering gaze of his excited her. But she had seen him hide his feelings just as adeptly, and she narrowed her eyes, sending a clear message to quit.  
  
"Ow!" Willow exclaimed suddenly, and Buffy shook herself away from the staring contest with the vampire. The witch was looking sharply at said vampire, rubbing her ankle ruefully.  
  
Buffy managed a chuckle before making the appropriate scornful looks in Spike's direction. He had obviously been trying to kick her back; Well, served him right for missing. He evidently failed to see the humor in the situation, sitting back with a scowl.  
  
"Sorry, Red," he surprised the table, although the apology was in a rather gruff voice. "I was stretching and my foot slipped."  
  
The Slayer knew the truth to be quite different, but Willow shrugged it off.  
  
"I'll live, will just have to limp around a few days."  
  
"How hard did your foot 'slip'?" Xander snapped nastily, gesturing at the rapidly bruising ankle of his best friend.  
  
The bleached blonde's face clouded over, and he was obviously about to make another scathing remark. Buffy intervened with a smile.  
  
"Can you go get me a drink?"  
  
"What kind?" he questioned warily, torn between preserving his bad image and doing his Slayer a favor. Considering the hatred in the carpenter's face, the choice was not hard.  
  
"Surprise me." Buffy answered, silently pressing the need for him to leave so she could address her circle of friends.  
  
With only the smallest of scoffs, he sauntered off, but the Slayer hadn't missed the flash of gratitude in his eyes. He had wanted her to fight this battle, but recognized he didn't want any part in it. Maybe he looked sullen now but she knew her little errand had relieved him-maybe enough to get compensated later.  
  
"What was that all about?" the redhead asked, taking a sip from her bottled water. Her eyes followed the vampire as he reached the bar.  
  
"Play nice, guys!" Buffy demanded resolutely. "Since I've been back, has he done a single thing to hurt you?"  
  
Xander looked at Willow's leg, Willow looked at the bruise on Xander's face.  
  
"OK, fine. But has he done any of that maliciously? On purpose?"  
  
They had no answer for that, shrugging but not entirely convinced that they should tolerate the vampire's presence. He was intelligent enough to pretend to be on their side, but could turn on them at a moment's notice. Unless of course, there was something keeping him on the path of good. That possibility was exactly what they were worried about.  
  
"So maybe he's different, but why, Buffy?" the witch implored, trying to understand. Her voice trembled slightly, but with this was with anger. "You disappear for a week, we don't know whether the world is in danger, whether you survived! And now you come back and it's more than accepting how Spike has changed-you're asking us to automatically adjust to what you've become! You're the reason we're so wigged out!"  
  
"I'm still the same Buffy, guys!" the blonde Slayer tried to explain, in a dilemma about what to reveal. "After the fight, I was wounded pretty badly. We stayed in the mansion while I healed, and he helped me recover. No murder attempts, no midnight bites."  
  
She blushed a little at the other connotation of that, but rallied the logical half of her brain to keep talking. It wouldn't do to turn into a puddle of horny mush right now.  
  
"We had a chance to get to understand each other, and we're closer now, so just."  
  
"How close now?" Xander interrupted sarcastically, his jealous eyes not overlooking Buffy's response at even talking about the vampire.  
  
She had tried telling them the truth slowly, but her friend's attitude was rubbing the Slayer the wrong way. Suddenly, she didn't feel very forthcoming.  
  
"Not your business," she snapped, her hazel eyes flashing. "All you need to know is that he won't kill me. But I'd say *your* safety is in doubt if you keep acting like this!"  
  
"We just worry about you," Willow said peacefully, trying to smooth the waters. "You know that."  
  
"I can take care of myself, you know that too."  
  
"It's just that it's Spike, and the initial reaction is a little 'Whoa, what are you thinking?'," the witch nervously elaborated, aware that this was a touchy subject.  
  
"Weren't you two urging me to move on after Angel left?" Buffy asked bitterly, quoting them with some pain still in her eyes. " 'It's not right for you to be waiting for someone who isn't coming back.' Wasn't that what you told me? Well, Spike is here, and yes, Angel is dead. So, yay, no more moody Buffy."  
  
"I'm sorry about Angel, we didn't know." Xander offered, able to recognize the hurt even through his anger. How much of a nervous wreck had she been before a week in the mansion to recuperate?  
  
"It's not really about him anymore," the Slayer sighed with frustration. "That's a bit ironic, you only accept how we felt about each other when he's a pile of dust. But I need you to get over me being around Spike. We understand each other. That kinda happens when you have time to talk. For once, can you just let me have some part of my Fate-driven life to myself?"  
  
Willow started to apologize, the truth behind the Slayer's vehemence evident. Xander, near hysterical, won out, overpowering her meek voice with ease..  
  
"He's lying to you somehow, Buff," the brunette insisted. "Think of the past. He tried to kill you and."  
  
"I'm not arguing with you about this anymore!" Buffy shot back, wishing that she didn't need to argue in the first place. Nothing in her life could be easy. "I'm not being manipulated, I'm thinking clearly, and Spike's part of the group now. Just drop it."  
  
They fell silent, Buffy and Xander fuming up a storm, Willow looking worriedly between the two but not sure what to say-whoever she sided with, one of her friends' feelings would be hurt. Trouble was, they both had good points. It was actually rather convenient the argument had deteriorated, since Spike had come back with a tall daiquiri.  
  
Immediately pulled from her little pool of frustration, Buffy took in the large beverage with what seemed like satisfaction. Willow didn't blame her, alcohol sounded like a really good idea right now, but it wouldn't solve any of their disputes. The redhead watched the two of them closely, trying to see if Xander's claims had any truth in them. There wasn't resentment here though. She couldn't see more than a pair of people whose hands brushed together longer than it took to exchange grips on the drink.  
  
Xander coughed obnoxiously, and the couple became aware of their audience. Spike seemed to finally notice that the awkward silence at the table was a bit more pronounced than it had been before he had been sent off on his errand. He glanced at Buffy out of the corner of his eye, and she met his look, shrugging wryly. No help there then.  
  
He leaned over impersonally and said in her ear. "I can leave."  
  
"No!" the Slayer stated firmly, loud enough to draw attention. "I'm through worrying about consequences."  
  
With that, she took his hand and held it, right in front of her friends. He looked at her with pleased surprise, which rapidly vanished under an inscrutable mask as he assessed the reaction of her chums. They, on the other hand, were staring at her like she had just sprouted a dozen tattoos, piercings, and a slutty outfit.  
  
"I don't have to sit here and watch you screw your life up!" Xander stood huffily, striding away from the table.  
  
Spike looked down at his lover to see the obvious hurt on her face. Apparently she had hoped that reasoning with her friend would make him a bit more tolerant-but there were some things even a Slayer couldn't accomplish. Still, she got up to follow him, more upset than angry now.  
  
The vampire pushed her back down into her chair, massaging her hand with just the right amount of pressure. "I'll try to knock some sense into him."  
  
"Not literally, I hope," Willow piped up, a tiny smile on her features. Maybe she was a hopeless romantic. It was just that seeing the way the couple acted around each other couldn't seem very wrong. Perhaps change wasn't impossible in a vampire?  
  
He looked at her, blue eyes sharing in the joke as a slow smile spread across his face. It looked like he had already gained another ally. His gaze returned to a still-worried Buffy. "You talk to Red, alright, love?"  
  
"Don't get killed." Buffy warned him with real concern in her eyes. In this state, Xander might be reckless. She trusted Spike not to hurt him-though doing so lowered his defenses to whatever her friend might do.  
  
The vampire briefly nodded his head, squeezing her hand once more before heading for the club exit.  
  
********** To give the carpenter his due, he was very close to holding his own against a vampire which had been in the back alley of the Bronze. Spike was considering letting the kid get roughed up a bit but jumped in when another two vamps entered the fray. Xander had been deposited quickly in a heap on the ground, scooting away from the advancing enemy and looking around for a potential weapon.  
  
It was nowhere to be found, and one of his attackers snatched him by the collar of his t-shirt, her short hair dyed blue and artistically mussed. Before she had time to bite or Xander to struggle she turned to dust, features contorting in confusion. The brunette human coughed, swiftly looking up to see his savior-or new assailant as the case might be.  
  
He was surprised, to say the least, to discover Spike, a stake in one hand and the other extended to help him up. Warily, he accepted the aid, rising to his feet in a timely fashion as the other vampires recovered and resumed their attack. In their eyes the odds were still in their favor, but maybe they hadn't recognized Spike's identity.  
  
"Spike?" one of the males exclaimed as he landed a punch on the older vampire's face. OK, so maybe they did know him, but most bloodsuckers didn't have the intellect to know when to back out of a fight. "I've heard rumors about you shadowing the Slayer, but can't say I believed them until now. What exactly is she offering for you to turn traitor?"  
  
That last was said with a lecherous leer, and even Xander cringed at the look on Spike's face. The silver-haired vampire's response was an unintelligible growl and a vicious roundhouse kick. Xander would have continued to view the exchange and decide who exactly he was rooting for, but the other vampiress had attacked him, hardly cautious.  
  
She could smell his blood and as such, didn't see him as much of a threat. He surprised her, ducking her fists and feet until he had maneuvered himself into a corner. Thinking he was caught, she smiled gruesomely, staring at her victim's face to drink in all emotion. That was why she missed Xander's hand staking her through the heart.  
  
In the meantime, Spike had dispatched his opponent and wheeled around to bail out the human, to find that the fight was over.  
  
"Well fought," their sometime-nemesis mentioned, eyes scanning the alley for any further threats.  
  
"Thanks." Xander said, wiping his brow. Then he remembered his 'manners', inquiring dryly, "Are you saving me for your own meal then?"  
  
"I really mean to change for her." Spike responded, an exasperated look the only sign he had heard Xander's question. His face softened. "I love Buffy, you know."  
  
"Try another excuse. Maybe something more believable?"  
  
Frustration flashed once more over the vampire's features, and seeing that his verbal opponent was stubborn, he changed tactics.  
  
"You're jealous, aren't you? I've heard how you acted about Angel as well! Threw a fit like a little child!" the vamp accused derisively, a wolfish smile on his lips. "It's not that I'm a vampire, it's not that I *used* to be evil-you have the world's largest big-brother complex."  
  
"It's the only way I can protect her." Xander revealed, his rage dissipated by the uncanny analysis. Had Spike always been this observant?  
  
"I'll drink to that," he snorted, rolling his blue eyes briefly. Leaning against the wall, Spike lit up a smoke, ready for another long rant directed at him.  
  
Xander was unsure what to say for a moment. Was Spike honestly saying for all his supernatural strength and whatever other advantages there were to being a vampire, he still felt partially inferior around Buffy? He would never had thought they would have something, let alone *that*, in common. As he reflected, he realized that it made sense after all-Buffy was fiercely independent and that didn't change in any aspect of her life. Though he had doubts Spike was completely useless to his long-time friend.  
  
"Drink sounds good to me," he broke the silence, his brown eyes finally friendly.  
  
The vampire was obviously surprised by this acceptance, but hid it rapidly behind a ironic smile. He extinguished the cigarette and the two men made a beeline for the bar. It was nothing short of a miracle that violence and alcohol had made them something resembling friends.  
  
Ah, male bonding at its best. **********  
  
"Where are they?" Buffy worried half an hour later, still at the table with Willow. "Do you think they've killed each other?"  
  
"You're really worried about him. Spike." Willow noticed, clarifying her statement.  
  
The Slayer gave her a 'yeah, duh!' look. They had spent the time going over what had happened until not even the tiniest part of the witch was skeptical about the romance. She wasn't sure where this was heading, if Buffy would end up hurt like she had in the past.  
  
Still, it seemed an unusually normal relationship-for Buffy anyway. It wasn't like she would ever be able to settle down with Joe Average. She was something unique, a one-of-a-kind woman. Not just any male could deal with that, but vampires had never had many problems in the past as long as they were on the safe side of her stake. And if all else failed, Spike could be annoying enough to distract Buffy from her problems!  
  
"He'd better get back soon or you're gonna be killing someone," the redhead pointed out lightly, nodding at the chafing hands of her friend.  
  
"Oh. Yeah." Buffy said distractedly, staring at her hands like they were not a part of her. Then her attention shifted back to the Bronze, looking around for a familiar silvery head. At this point even Xander's brunette would be a welcome sight.  
  
She spotted both men at the same time, as they were ambling their way back to the table. As they drew closer, the Slayer's gaze was locked on Xander. She was pleased to find that there were no marks or further bruises on his face. He grinned at her, raising an arm to give a casual wave, then abruptly grabbing the back of a chair. His dizziness was an indication he had been drinking.  
  
With that realization, she turned her eyes to Spike, just in time to see a possessive glower. He was jealous that she was looking at Xander? Buffy supposed she should be flattered by that, but didn't know how to react. Acting like everything was normal seemed the best course of action.  
  
"How's my vampire?" she asked, curiously looking into his arrogant face. When he didn't answer, she leaned closer and caught a whiff of his breath. "Drunk, I see."  
  
"Just a little!" Spike argued with her, sliding his hand over her hair and tracing the curve of her ear.  
  
She smiled, enjoying his touch but aware he was likely as disoriented as Xander. She firmly ordered "We're going home now."  
  
Putting a hand on his leather duster, she allowed him to twine an arm around her waist for support.  
  
"Don't you want a ride?" Willow offered. "I'm designated-driver girl anyway."  
  
"Nah, we'll walk it off." Buffy declined politely. "See you later, Wil."  
  
The redhead cheerily waved and helped Xander sit in a chair, since he was practically falling asleep on his feet. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea for them to go home too. **********  
  
As they made their way along the pavement, the Slayer looked up into the vampire's face, only to find his eyes shut in sheer exhaustion. That could have been a factor of the heavy drinking, but she wasn't sure.  
  
"Everything worked out then?" she ventured to ask, causing him to open his eyes to tiny slits.  
  
"Yeah, we just dusted a few vamps and had a skinful," he groaned. "God, my head."  
  
"We're almost back to my apartment." Buffy consoled him. "Aspirin and a bed await."  
  
"I could do without the aspirin." Spike said hopefully, managing a full grin to match her sparkling eyes.  
  
She laughed at that. "I don't think you can handle anything more involved than cuddling until you're sober!"  
  
"That's me, your teddy bear with fangs," he grumbled but was silenced by her gently kissing him.  
  
"You are most definitely not snuggly. Perish the thought!"  
  
"You know I love you," he said, all of a sudden sober. "I'd be a soddin' ponce if it made you happy. However you want me to change."  
  
"Don't you dare," she countered, emphasizing her words by pointing a finger at his chest. "Teddy bears are too high maintenance and vulnerable. I wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you weren't who you are."  
  
"That made a sort of sense," the platinum-blonde vampire joked, but tightened his arm around her waist.  
  
"Just be you, and don't worry how I feel about it." Buffy clarified.  
  
"Good, cos right now 'me' has a splitting headache."  
  
She sighed patiently, tugging him along. "Then let's go home, Change-boy. I'll stay in the room with you as long as you don't vomit or smoke."  
  
"Deal."  
  
*****  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
*****  
  
Buffy grimaced just a little as she laid down on the lawn and let the damp ground soak her clothing. She prayed she wouldn't get grass stains, but knew the plea was futile. The platinum-haired vampire resting on the earth next to her curled an arm around her shoulders and strangely the great outdoors was no longer as much of a nuisance.  
  
It had been almost a year since that fateful introduction, something she had feared even more than facing down Angel and his pet apocalypse. Quite frankly, from there, things had gone swimmingly. Of course there was still all the pressure of fighting demons and saving the world's population from doom, but being with Spike in between all of the bruising battles made everything good again.  
  
Her friends trusted him, saw him as one of their own, a Scooby, however vehemently he protested being saddled with that title. Even her mother liked him, constantly urging her daughter to come over for dinner, and bring Spike. It was just like having a regular boyfriend! The irony of what her lover really was did not escape the Slayer, who constantly tried to puzzle out how they managed to be so normal.  
  
And now they were laying outside the mansion staring up at the night sky. They did not live there, choosing to use the spacious rooms for training sessions, and the occasional need for seclusion.  
  
He turned his head to her but she was looking dreamily at the stars. So he returned his gaze to those faraway constellations, thinking sadly that they were the only things he would ever see in the sky, the sun forbidden to him. Some nights he wondered if that was best for his Slayer, if there was something else she needed.  
  
"What are you thinking?" Buffy asked him, having noticed his mood despite the lack of words said.  
  
He regarded her face for a minute, and found that none of that mattered to her. She lived in the now, adapted better than anyone dead or alive on the planet. This had been her choice, at least he thought he saw that confidence in her eyes. There was only one way to be sure.  
  
"Will you marry me?" he said suddenly.  
  
Thoughts ran through her head at that, too numerous to give him the 'yes' on the tip of her tongue. What about Angel and Drusilla? They might have switched partners, but their memories of their exes could still cause doubt. And there was the immortality issue. Eventually she would be a shriveled old woman, if she didn't die from her sacred duties first. What would he do then, always young?  
  
He still waited there patiently, eyes hesitant, as if he were doubting the wisdom of asking the question. She tried to sum up all the tumultuous thoughts in her head and finally rolled over to face him, running a hand across his cheekbone.  
  
"OK." Buffy says happily, and they met in a kiss as the impassive stars above smiled.  
  
"Now I'll have to go get a ring. Something with diamonds?" he questioned sleepily, her head resting on his chest.  
  
"Diamonds are forever." she quoted the commercial, staring up at the night sky as his hand smoothed over her hair.  
  
"No, we are."  
  
"We are." Buffy agreed, finally allowing her drowsy eyes to close.  
  
******************* Well, it's been a really long process getting this story finished-almost a year since I started it I think. Maybe I can get a start on a couple more ideas that have been floating around in this overworked head of mine! Thanks for the reviews when I put up chapters, and let's all count our blessings for Spike's snarky return! ~CenizaAzul 


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